


in the year of '74

by AranelTheWhite



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Not Britpicked, Time Travel, about anything, ben hardy and the terrible horrible no good very bad day, ben just fucks around and tries not to be found out, ben more or less macgyvers his way through the seventies, bonding through drunkness and never have i ever, he's not very subtle, i hate myself for writing rpf, inspired by ben saying he'd turn for rog on the oscars' red carpet, kind of slow burn, no beta we die like men, the first chapters are pretty short but no worries it gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2020-10-10 16:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 28,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AranelTheWhite/pseuds/AranelTheWhite
Summary: If asked what he would do first if he travelled back in time, Ben probably would have said 'going full-on Back to the Future and making a lot of money by betting on sports events' or something of the sort.Turns out, that wasn't really the case.As soon as he had confirmed his suspicion with a quick look at a newspaper stand outside the airport, Ben had gone looking for a hotel room and had, once he'd safely stored his suitcase in said room, gone to the nearest bar to get absolutely shitfaced.September 5th, 1974.Nineteen-seventy-four.





	1. be careful what you joke about

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my files for uhh half a year but now it's freddie's birthday and it starts on his birthday so i thought i'd just start to post this.  
i kind of hate myself for writing rpf because it's slightly weird and also creepy but i wasn't gonna delete it now, was i?
> 
> This whole thing was inspired by Mr Hardy saying he'd turn for seventies-Roger (and honestly mood but i digress) and i started to write this fic a week after that. and i haven't touched it in at least three months. just so you have a timeline of my laziness 😔🤘
> 
> Anyway, there are some things in here that i have no idea of - like alcohol, medicine, time travel theoretics and details of what actually happened in what order. I've also made some very minor intentional changes (you'll probably know when you read them but if not, good for me ig) and those are bc i decided to kinda go with the alternate realities thing. no worries, tho, that isn't very important.
> 
> another thing - i'm german and although i do consider myself very capable of speaking/writing in english there might still be some minor mistakes. feel free to point them out to me!  
(that's also the reason why it probably doesn't feel very british. i'm just confused folks,,)

When Ben had said that he might have turned for Roger from the seventies on the red carpet, it hadn't technically been a lie. He was well aware of the man's escapades and the fact that he had been anything but opposed to sexual encounters at that point in time.

Ben was also well aware of Roger's good looks and his allure which very few people, no matter their gender, seemed to be able to elude - both back then and in the twenty-first century.

And while, yes, he may not have been entirely serious when he'd said that, it most certainly had not been a lie.

It was just that Ben had never expected to actually get the chance to even _meet _seventies-Roger.

Obviously.

Sure, he knew the man - and what an honour that was, right, and to have played him in a movie, an Acadamy Award-winning one, even - _wow_.

But that didn't change the fact that this Roger wasn't the one from the seventies, no. He was almost _in _his seventies, maybe, but that was something else entirely.

And so, since time travel was impossible, Ben hadn't even really entertained the notion of meeting that young guy beside a short thought that basically consisted of his brain going: _"Huh, that'd be funny."_

Well_. _Time travel was_ allegedly _impossible would have been a more accurate statement.

Airport toilets at night always had seemed like places where reality was a bit altered to Ben.

Nonetheless, it was weird to step out of there after taking a leak at four in the morning and seeing people in ruffled blouses, wide-legged pants, and colours that almost hurt his eyes, just running around like it was absolutely normal.

The fact that everyone here looked like they had walked right out of their movie wasn't made any less weird by the aspect that all this was happening in broad daylight.

Ben blinked. Hadn't it just been 4 AM?

He shook his head, closed the door to the men's washrooms and the opened it again after a few seconds.

Yup. The sight still hurt his eyes.

"Hey! Some of us don't wanna live in these bathrooms, you know. I gotta flight to catch!" 

A man with the most atrocious perm-and-sideburns-combination that Ben had ever seen pushed past him and quickly disappeared in the crowd.

With a sigh, Ben readjusted his backpack on his shoulder and looked down at the suitcase that was standing next to him. _His _suitcase.

At least he still had his clothes.


	2. ben hardy and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben gets drunk and meets the gang(TM)

If asked what he would do first if he travelled back in time, Ben probably would have said, "Going full-on _Back to the Future_ and making a lot of money by betting on sports events," or something of the sort.

Turns out, that wasn't really the case.

As soon as he had confirmed his suspicion with a quick look at a newspaper stand outside the airport, Ben had taken a taxi to somewhere in the actual city of London since the airport was pretty far away from that. After that, he'd found himself an affordable hotel room and had, once he'd safely stored his suitcase and backpack in said room, gone to the nearest bar to get absolutely shitfaced.

September 5th, 1974.

_Nineteen-seventy-four._

Oh, he was so glad all his papers and some money had been in his suitcase. And that the currency was still mostly the same here in the UK. And that nobody at this bar had asked to see his ID yet, because then Ben would have had to explain how in the hell he could be born in 1991 - more than sixteen years from now, apparently.

Ben had the urge to bash his head onto the counter. Repeatedly.

This was so goddamn weird that he couldn't even really panic. A part of him was still convinced that he'd simply fallen asleep on the airport toilet and this was some kind of post-Oscars-excitement-induced dream.

It didn't explain why everything seemed so real - the alcohol actually burned down his throat, although it _was _very good - but it certainly was one explanation.

At least his subconscious had sent him to one of the better areas of London, he supposed, _thank god for small mercies._

(And if this was indeed real which, deep down, he knew it was, then no one could blame him for getting sloshed. So, whatever.)

Ben ordered another drink.

I^^I

It was getting dark outside and slowly but surely, the bar was getting crowded.

By this point, Ben had been staring at the display of glasses and bottles behind the counter for at least an hour and a half, contemplating his life choices with an empty gaze.

This, however, meant that he was also getting sober again.

And so, when the door opened with a bang loud enough to be heard over the music and the general noises of the crowd, loud enough to catch Ben's attention, make him turn around to find out who the _hell_-

Well.

Being sober again meant that he immediately recognized the four people who had just entered the bar.

This time, he did bash his head onto the counter.

I^^I

"One iced Stolichnaya vodka, one vodka without ice, a Chardonnay and a Guinness, please," a cheerful raspy voice said as a very particular blond drummer plopped onto the barstool next to Ben.

_Oh, you've got to be kidding me-_

Besides the fact that he had no idea how the man had been able to pronounce the name of the first drink, Ben also couldn't believe that a young version of Roger Taylor was now sitting maybe twenty inches away from him.

So much for 'never getting the chance'. Wow.

(At least he'd spent enough time around the older Roger to not act like a starstruck fanboy.)

"Well, you look miserable," Roger said, now turning his barstool to face him.

Ben wanted to _yell_.

"Thanks," was what he said instead. "I am."

Roger huffed out a laugh. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"I'm... dissatisfied with my overall situation, let's just say that," Ben replied, taking a sip from his drink for the first time in two hours. "I doubt you're my therapist, though, so..." He shrugged. On one hand, he didn't want to appear as rude, but on the other hand, he _really_ didn't want to talk about his awful, freaky day.

Roger laughed again, louder this time. "God, I'd make a shit therapist."

The snort escaped Ben without his permission and he finally looked at the other man with a small smile. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. My friends over there can attest to that."

Roger waved his hand, indicating to a table behind them in one of the corners of the room. And there were Brian, John and Freddie - _Freddie Mercury, holy shit_ \- obviously enjoying themselves, the latter ruffling through John's long hair, all of them laughing.

Ben had to force himself to tear his eyes away from them before his staring got weird.

"Are you celebrating something?" he asked, gripping his glass tighter. It was either that or screaming; he had to get some of this nervous-slash-excited energy out of his system. Ben doubted the screaming would be appreciated.

Roger nodded. "Two things, actually!"

Ben raised his eyebrows, prompting the other to elaborate.

"Well, for one, it's my mate Freddie's birthday - that's the one with the non-curly black hair-" Roger nodded in his general direction and Ben looked over again, still in awe of the sight.

September 5th. Right.

"-And we finished recording an album today!"

Ben's gaze flickered back to Roger, the question 'which one?' on the tip of his tongue before he realized that was probably not the first question normal people would ask in response to this.

"Whi- uh...you're in a band?"

Nailed it.

"Yeah, yeah. Queen?"

Ben feigned having to think about the name. "I... think I've heard of it. Uh, _Doing All Right_ was one of your songs, right? And...you were on Top of the Pops with_ Seven Seas of Rhye_?"

The way Roger's face lit up was, dare Ben say it, almost _cute_. "Yes! I'm Roger Taylor, I'm-"

"The drummer, I know."

Was that weird? That was definitely weird. Now he sounded like a stalker! How could he possibly come back from that?

"My name's, uh, Ben Hardy."

_Oh for God's sake-_

"Okay, that's it," Roger grinned, completely defying all of Ben's expectations, "you're celebrating with us!"

The man stood up, pressed the just-arrived Guinness and the unpronounceable Russian-sounding vodka into Ben's hands, took the two other drinks and stood up, obviously expecting Ben to follow him.

"Wha- no, I'm... I don't even..."

Roger raised the index finger of his right hand, the one that was holding the glass of Chardonnay, and pointed at Ben, effectively silencing him. "Shut up. You're nice, you know our band and you're having a shit day - enough reasons to party with us. Come on!"

And with that, he turned around and started walking towards the table.

"...don't want to intrude...," was all that left Ben's mouth as he stood there forlornly.

He was still holding the two glasses of drinks that weren't his. Ben sighed.

He supposed he had no other choice, then.


	3. disaster drunk™ ben hardy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben gets even more drunk and comes *this* close to spilling his secret during a game of naver have i ever

"Well, we're used to you picking up pretty girls at bars, darling, but this beautiful young man kind of really doesn't fit that type."

Ben may have blushed at that. He was aware that he was handsome - god forbid his fans let him forget about that for even a second - but hearing it from Freddie Mercury was something else entirely.

Ben was glad that he possessed enough self-control not to scream. Or cry. Or faint. Or all of the above.

Roger shrugged with a small grin, handing John the vodka and keeping the Chardonnay for himself. "What can I say, I wanted to spice it up a bit."

"Seems like more than just a bit to me," Brian replied, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed and a smug smile on his lips.

"Oh, shut up." Roger waved him off. "As I said to Ben, he's nice, knows our band and he was having a shit day - that's enough reasons to celebrate with us."

The others seemed to accept that easily enough and introduced themselves.

Ben figured it was time to finally get those drinks out of his hands. He knew that the Guinness would probably be Brian's, which left the unspeakable vodka for Freddie.

"I have two things to say," Ben spoke up, handing the two glasses to their recipients with a questioning look, not wanting to seem too sure about who got which. "One, happy birthday!" He smiled at Freddie, who thanked him enthusiastically.

(If Ben's voice was slightly higher due to excitement and nervosity, well, no one had to know that.)

"And two, you really shouldn't invite every fan you come across to your parties. I could be a psychopathic murderer for all you know."

The band didn't seem to be too concerned about that. "Freddie was a boxer, Bri is gigantic _and _we're four people." John shrugged. "I'm confident enough that we could take you down."

"Exactly," Roger agreed and proceeded to tug on Ben's sleeve. "Now sit down, no need to be so stiff!"

Freddie grinned into his glass of vodka, murmuring something along the lines of "the stiffness comes in later, dear," making Ben blush again. Roger was reduced to indignant spluttering while Brian and John started laughing, even though they more or less successfully tried to cover it as coughing.

"God, you remind me of Joe," Ben blurted out, apparently unable to control his mouth now.

"Joe?" Freddie asked, and of course Ben would wind up talking about Joe _fucking _Mazzello to Freddie Mercury, years before the man was even born. Ben couldn't wait to tell Joe when he saw him again.

If.

_If _he saw him again.

Anyway.

"Yeah, he's a buddy of mine, we kind of always joke about being in a relationship with each other and making Gwil - another friend - jealous." Ben huffed with a smile. "As you do."

There was no need to mention Cardboard Ben's role in all of this. Or the fact that they posted that stuff on Instagram. Or the fact that their fans absolutely _loved _it. Or, most of all, the fact that they even _had _fans.

"So you're not opposed to that?" Freddie leaned forward in his seat, locking eyes with Ben who suddenly couldn't look away. The other three had gone silent, now only watching intently.

Ben cleared his throat. "Opposed to, uh, to what?"

"Homosexuality, darling!" The singer waved his hand around as if he couldn't believe Ben was so slow.

Ben almost snorted, now daring to let his eyes flicker away for a short moment before he looked back at the four band members. "Would be a bit hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?" He regretted his words immediately, but there was no taking them back now.

Freddie's eyes widened and the others didn't look any less surprised.

"Oh my god," Ben murmured, hiding his face in his hands. "_Wow_. I can't believe I just said that. In a public place. When I've known you lot for less than ten minutes!"

Not technically true when it came to Brian and Roger, but that wasn't the point right now.

"So you're gay? Or...?" Brian cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Ben lifted his head and waved him off. "Yeah, no, it's fine. I'm bisexual, I guess. But yeah, uh, definitely not straight."

Freddie seemed even more interested now. "Really? I must confess, I've had that suspicion about myself as well, recently."

"Oh? What does Mary say about that?" John raised his eyebrows, curious but also slightly concerned for his friend.

Freddie just clenched his teeth for a second before replying: "Nothing. I haven't talked about it with her yet."

The whole table was silent for some time which, in Ben's opinion, became really awkward really fast.

Luckily, Roger seemed to be of the same opinion. "Well, that was depressing. Anyone else want to come out? No? Good. Who wants to play a game?"

I^^I

Since Twenty Questions didn't seem too appealing to anyone and nobody had a game of Scrabble on their person, Ben suggested Never Have I Ever. He was appalled to find out that none of the members of Queen had ever heard of it.

Well, he supposed it could have been a fairly new game from his time that hadn't been invented yet.

(_Fuck the timeline_, Ben thought, which was most likely the last bits of alcohol in his brain talking. _I've probably already changed enough by even talking to them. _He was, of course, aware that this was probably the dumbest thing he'd ever done. He just hoped he was right to bet on the fact that he'd created a new timeline and not fucked up his own future...present...whatever. That wouldn't be ideal.)

After Ben had explained the rules of the game to the other four, who had been thrilled, they agreed on the shots-version, not the finger-counting or stripping one.

(Brian had been in favour of the finger-counting, though, and Freddie and Roger weren't averse to the stripping, despite being in public.)

"I'm going to be honest," Ben informed them before they began, just to be safe, "I don't have too much money with me and I'll have to pay for my hotel room, too. I might have to opt out after some rounds."

He had barely finished his sentence when Freddie interrupted with a "Nonsense, dear!" and Roger graciously offered to pay for his shots. He'd opened a tab for the band, anyway, what were a few more drinks on it?

I^^I

And so the game commenced.

As these games did, it all started out fairly innocently. John was the first one to ask a question, which happened to be "Never have I ever looked for sunglasses that I was already wearing."

Roger pulled a face, obviously unhappy at being singled out like that, and downed his first shot. His mood was lifted when Ben, too, had to drink.

_At least I was in character, then_, Ben mused with a slight grin.

Brian was next. "Never have I ever, uh... tried to pass a silent fart, but it came out loud instead."

Everyone giggled at the slightly immature question, but obediently downed their shot.

"Come on, Bri, you simply cannot tell me that hasn't happened to you before!" Freddie nudged the taller man with his foot under the table since they were sitting on opposite sides.

Brian blushed. "Well, not in public!"

"Aw, come on, that still counts!" Ben laughed, pushing the man's glass a bit closer to him.

Roger started chanting "Drink, drink, drink!" and the other three joined in until finally, Brian sighed. 

"Fine," he said and did as he was told.

Roger's thought for a short moment before grinning. "Never have I ever dressed as the opposite sex!"

Freddie, John and Brian deflated a little, obviously not expecting anyone to have to drink.

Ben, however, almost groaned out loud. Damn you, Roger Taylor! That one was on him, both for asking and for even suggesting to shoot the _I Want To Break Free_ music video in drag.

To drink or not to drink, that was the question. On one hand, it would be embarrassing as all hell and Ben would definitely be made fun of. But on the other hand, the rules commanded it... and _honor_ did, too.

The band's eyes almost fell out of their eyes when Ben downed his shot with a slightly miffed expression.

"Oh, I have so many questions," John murmured while Freddie and Roger didn't even give him that warning.

"What? When?"

"Why?"

"What did you even wear?"

Ben let his head sink onto the table, contemplating his life choices once again.

"A little over a year ago," he finally said when he came back up. "Because I'm an actor and that was required for... for the film we were doing. And I was dressed up as a schoolgirl."

Ben was overcome with instant regret at the words that had just left his mouth. He blamed it on the alcohol.

Roger, ironically, started laughing so hard that tears appeared in his eyes.

Freddie, however, looked pensive for a second. "So...not to judge, but you're bisexual, fairly fucking handsome, you dressed up as a schoolgirl, and were in a film." He lifted a finger for every point. "That... that sounds like pornography, dear."

Ben choked on his own spit and started coughing, his eyes widening and face growing as red as a tomato. "No! God, no!" he protested as soon as he could breathe properly again. "That was _not at all_ what was going on!"

"Well, then what _were _you doing?" Roger asked with a shit-eating grin.

Ben went pale when he realized that he _really _couldn't tell them.

"I... I can't... I was _not _in a porn movie!"

"Sure, Ben." Even Brian and John were snickering now while Roger's cackles were getting louder and louder.

John tilted his head to one side. "Well, I'd love to see it, in any case-"

_"Never have I ever-"_ Ben yelped, trying to put a stop to the conversation, horrified at the turn it had taken- "seen anyone playing this game right now naked!"

The entire band was unfazed as they downed their drinks, although they were still shaking from repressed laughter.

"We've been living in the same flat for ages," Brian shrugged when he saw Ben's questioning and slightly smug gaze. The blond apparently thought that would be an embarrassing topic for them. Which it wasn't. "Accidents happen."

"I wouldn't call Rog pulling down my towel when I came out of the shower an accident," John murmured. "But alright."

It was Freddie's turn next. "Never have I ever kissed a celebrity."

Ben frowned. "Define celebrity."

"That means somebody everyone knows; although you are right, there are different levels of fame," Freddie nodded.

"Everyone...well, then no." Ben leaned back in his chair, happy that he didn't have to drink for once.

"You do know that doesn't exactly help your case, right?" Roger's shit-eating grin was back. "The actors in pornography are famous to some, but not everyone knows them."

"Oh my god, Roger," Ben groaned, "Please just let it rest."

When John got ready to ask the next question, Freddie leaned over to him and whispered something in his ear, the singer's face just as gleeful as Roger's.

Ben had a bad, _bad _feeling about this.

And John Deacon, of whom he had thought he could trust, simply shattered that belief when he said: "Never have I ever kissed or had sex with a person of the same gender."

"On second thought, I actually might turn into a murderer," Ben grumbled before he dutifully picked up his next glass and emptied it.

Although he wasn't the only one - Freddie and, to his surprise, Roger, also had to drink - everyone, of course, chose to focus on him.

"So, Ben, do tell," Brian smirked, leaning towards him with interest, "this wouldn't have to do with you dressing up as a schoolgirl, would it?"

Ben gave up. "I literally came out as bisexual to all of you not even half an hour ago," he whined, his speech a bit slurred by that point. "No, it doesn't."

There was a beat of silence before his drunk brain made him say the worst possible thing in this situation.

"I do make for a pretty schoolgirl, though, I'll have you know." Ben hiccuped. "Joe slapped my ass... But he said my thighs were too thick for me to wear the skirt," he added with a frown.

The entire band immediately lost their shit. Roger had tears streaming down his cheeks, John had his face planted on the table, his shoulders shaking, and Brian accidentally shot some of the Guinness he'd just taken a sip from out through his nose. Freddie's full-body laughter threatened to make him fall from his chair.

"Oh, we're gonna have to dress you up like that again," Roger wheezed, still trying to catch his breath. "I would _pay _to see that."

"Bold of you to assume you're going to see me again after this," Ben huffed, emptying another drink to distract himself from the embarrassment and also because _what the hell, why not. _"I'm sorry, I have to leave. I have to fling myself into the sun _immediately_."

That sent everyone into another fit of laughter.

I^^I

Everyone had chosen to target Ben for the rest of the game, resulting in him getting absolutely shitfaced and the others staying fairly sober, but still having the time of their lives.

That was until they needed to leave and realized that they had no idea which hotel Ben was staying at.

"Well, that's going to be an issue," Brian sighed, watching Freddie and Roger try to keep the man upright.

John was leaning close to Ben's face and lightly slapping his face in an attempt to gain his attention. "Ben, where is your hotel? Come on, please, at least try to remember."

Ben just looked at the bassist with glassy eyes and giggled. "You look like-" a hiccup- "like Joe. You look like his dad, you could be his _dad_, John."

"Yeah, I don't think we're going to get anything out of him in this state." Roger tugged at Ben's arm that was slung over his shoulder and readjusted his grip on the man's waist to hoist him up a bit. "Can't we just take him home with us?"

Brian chewed on his lip. "I mean, he _is _still a stranger."

"Please, darling," Freddie laughed, "we just made him tell us his deepest, darkest secrets. If anything, _we're_ strangers to _him_."

John nodded. "Freddie is right. Besides, that kind of makes us responsible for this whole mess, no? I mean, we did make him pretty much drink his weight in alcohol."

"And he's nice!" Roger added with a grin, lifting his free hand to ruffle Ben's hair. The only reaction he got was a dazed groan. "...At least he was before he became unresponsive."

"Alright, point taken," Brian finally conceded, unable to hold back a small smile as well. "Let's just get going before he completely passes out."


	4. the morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben regrets his life choices and eats breakfast

Even before Ben completely regained consciousness, he became aware of the pounding headache and the uncomfortable position he was in.

He tried to pry his eyes open, but as soon as he got the tiniest glimpse of how bright the room was, he groaned and tightly pressed his eyelids back down.

He was lying on his front and as soon as Ben attempted to tug one of his arms out from under him to shield his eyes, he realized that his head was resting almost upright and at a weird angle that had his neck twisted in a _very _unpleasant way.

Ben wasn't sure what exactly he had been up to last night, but he deeply regretted it.

He carefully turned around to lie on his back which was a relief for his entire body - except for his head that started to hurt even more with the movement.

Finally managing to throw his arm over his eyes, Ben started to think about where exactly he was right now since what he was lying on definitely didn't feel like his bed, or _a _bed, even.

Just as he had come to the conclusion that it must have been a couch and that his head had been held at that unpleasant angle by its armrest, a door banged open and someone yelled: "Wake up, sleepyhead!"

Ben promptly fell off the couch, moaned in pain and then moaned again when his head practically exploded just a second later. A wave of nausea hit him and he swallowed to keep the bile at bay.

"I hate you," Ben mumbled, not even really knowing whom he was talking to, and pressed his hands to his forehead, eyes still tightly shut.

Another voice popped up, not quite yelling but not very quiet either and all in all _definitely too loud_ for Ben's poor head. 

"Roger, what did you do?"

With that name, everything came rushing back at him - the apparent time travel at the airport, the hotel, drinking at the bar, drinking at the bar with _Queen_, and getting absolutely wasted.

"Oh my god." Ben hesitantly opened his eyes, half prepared for a sliver of sunlight to hit his eyes and blind him forever - or make him throw up. Luckily, no such thing happened. Clearing his throat, Ben asked with a raspy voice: "Why the hell was I sleeping on your couch?"

He faintly remembered Brian telling him they were all living in a flat together.

_Why the hell am I even _in their flat_, for that matter?_

"Well, we pretty much replaced all your blood with alcohol yesterday," a softer, quieter voice than the two before it replied. "And since we obviously couldn't let you go looking for your hotel in that state and you couldn't tell us the address either, we kind of felt responsible and just took you home with us."

Ben could see it was Deaky who had spoken as the man walked around the couch. John came closer until he was right next to Ben, kneeling down and touching his shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"My head's pounding and I think I might be sick, but otherwise I'm fine." 

Ben thanked John when he helped him up and quickly grabbed John's upper arm to steady himself when the world started tilting around him. "Sorry. Ohh, not good."

Bile rose up in Ben's throat again. He clenched his teeth and tried to talk while moving his tongue as little as possible, knowing that if anything came even close to the back of his mouth, it would just make the feeling worse. "Where...where's your bathroom?"

"Through that door and then the first one on the right." John gestured to the door Roger and Freddie were still standing in. "Why? Are you going to-?"

Ben replied with a tight "Mhm," already on his way to reach the toilet as fast as his headache would allow.

Thankfully, the two others jumped out of his way and Brian, who was just coming out of the bathroom when he saw Ben approaching with the same slightly panicked expression that Roger always had right before he projectile-vomited on anything and anyone that didn't get away in time, held the bathroom door wide open for him.

And that was Ben's luck because if it had been even a moment longer, he wouldn't have made it to the toilet before he... well, ate backwards, so to say.

I^^I

"Sorry for violating your toilet like that," Ben croaked with a strained smile.

He was sitting at the kitchen table with John, Freddie, and Roger, while Brian prepared something for breakfast.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Freddie said, waving a hand dismissively.

Brian turned around from where he was standing at the counter, carelessly gesturing with a spatula. "Roger does it often enough, the toilet is used to it by now."

(John muttered something about just being glad nothing got on the carpeting.)

Roger gasped and Ben wasn't exactly sure whether or not he was seriously offended. "How _dare _you, Brian? Now Ben's going to think I'm some kind of drunkard!"

"Well, it's not like he's wrong, darling," Freddie grinned. "You do end up drunk and puking at least once a week."

"Yeah, well, _I_ know that and _you_ three know that, but Ben _didn't_! Why'd you have to turn on me like that, Bri?"

"Why are you so keen on making him like you anyway, huh?" Brian prodded, and now he was the one who looked smug.

"Ohh, that is a very good question!" Freddie agreed with gleaming eyes, leaning forward and resting his chin on one hand.

"What... I- What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"Oh, come on, Rog," John now interjected, "Don't think we didn't see you drink after I asked about who of us have kissed or slept with another bloke before."

"Some friends you are," Roger murmured, still beet red in the face. "For the record - it was a _threesome_, there was a _girl _there, I was _drunk _and I was _curious_. God!"

"Ugh, let's not judge him over what he did when he was drunk, yeah?" Ben inserted himself into the situation before anyone began to shout, mainly because that would make his head hurt even more. "Or on how often he gets drunk. I mean, I'm pretty sure I seem like the drunkard now, god only knows what I let slip last night."

And even though he had successfully prevented an argument, Ben _very much did not_ like the way the entire band was looking at him now - with glinting eyes and an almost malicious glee written all over their faces.

"...Oh no."

"Don't worry, dear," Freddie smirked, "It's not like you were in a pornographic film or something."

"Exactly." Roger nodded, sporting the same expression. "And who _doesn't_ dress up like a schoolgirl sometimes, right?"

"Or pretends to be in a relationship with their male best friend?" John grinned.

And Brian ended the band aesthetic of we-finish-each-other's-bullying-of-new-acquaintances with: "We do it all the time!"

A horrible feeling of embarrassment dawned on Ben and even though some thoughts in the back of his mind screamed things like_ 'Okay, Rogerina'_ and _'Just you wait until your sex tape gets leaked'_ and _'Freddie dry humps your legs on stage all the time, Brian, and you aren't bothered either,'_ the only thing that left his mouth was a groaned "I hate you all."

"Oh, do shut up, dear, that's impossible!"

Brian set a plate with a frankly delicious looking omelette on it down on the table in front of Ben at the same time, saying, "Nonsense, you're our biggest fan."   
He patted Ben's shoulder. "Now eat, and don't you dare throw up again. I'd hate to have cut these fucking onions for nothing."

I^^I

"I do think I'm going to have to go back to my hotel at some point," Ben said around the last bite of his omelette. "I don't want my stuff to be thrown out because I'm just, you know, gone."

The others, only having been handed their breakfast after Ben, weren't finished yet, but that didn't stop Freddie from responding.

"That much was obvious, dear."

"No, I know," Ben nodded with a huff, "that wasn't my point. To even find it, you're gonna have to tell me where exactly we are or else I'll just get lost. That would suck."

And wasn't that bizarre, eating breakfast with the members of Queen - with _all _of them - at their flat and asking them where they lived.

Adult life was so goddamn weird.


	5. the obligatory freakout one has when one unexpectedly time travels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben finally panics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is fairly short (and overdramatic) but that's because i wrote everything as one big text without chapters so i'm trying to make them as long as possible without having like three different topics now lmao

Ben screamed as soon as the door to his hotel room fell closed behind him and he was enveloped in a sense of relative privacy.

A pounding on the wall accompanied by muffled complaints from the room next to his only a few moments later made Ben shut up.

He wandered over to the bed, let himself fall face-first into the mattress and then continued to scream. The noise was dampened by the pillow this time.

Some time later - it could have been an hour or minutes or just seconds, Ben really couldn't care less and besides, time obviously worked differently for him, anyways - breathing became a little difficult, both because of his continued screaming and because the pillow was kind of smothering him. Ben turned around to lie on his back.

He sighed, vehemently shoving the questions of _How?_ and _Why? _to the back of his mind. He didn't know, there was no way for him to find out in the future and also, Ben wasn't sure he wanted to.

It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time he was truly alone since arriving in the past, except for the few seconds when he had practically thrown his suitcase and backpack into this room.

He was alone now. He had time to think - and time to panic, probably.

Ben very much did not want that to happen. Instead of dwelling on his thoughts, he got up and went into the small bathroom, hoping that a decent shower would calm him down a bit.

The water was cold at first and Ben flinched away from it, but it warmed up slowly and once it was at a pleasant temperature, he could finally relax. There was some shitty hotel shampoo and Ben washed his hair, for once not too pissed off when some of the shampoo got in his eyes. It kept him occupied for a few minutes and didn't allow his thoughts to go back to his time travel problem.

When Ben got out of the shower, a towel around his waist, the first thing he did was put on some new clothes from his suitcase. Well, new was a relative term, since he had worn them a few days before in America, but they certainly smelled better than the ones from last night.

There were some shirts, his black hoodie and his brown leather jacket in his suitcase, plus at least three suits - the one from the Oscars and two more which he'd worn at the pre-Oscars parties. That hadn't even been a week ago.

Ben bit his lip as a sharp pain pierced his chest. He suddenly became aware of how much he missed his friends - Rami, Lucy, Allen. Gwil. _Joe_.

God, he missed Joe. He remembered Sunday when they had gone to 7/11 just after the Oscars, still in their suits. On the plane, when Gwil and Ben had teased him over Instagram, asking him if he was jealous. The red carpet, surrounded by his friends. Celebrating every Oscar their movie had won, celebrating even more when Rami had won Best Actor.

Ben wished he was the one who had a cardboard cutout of Joe now, not the other way around. That way, he could at least pretend to have someone to talk to, someone to ask what to do now.

He gently put the white suit back down with tears in his eyes. He closed the suitcase and then went over to sit at the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands.

Ben's breathing sped up and he could hear his heart hammering. He tried to calm down, to take deep breaths, but his throat was tight and every time Ben inhaled, it was with a choked off sob. Although Ben managed not to go into a full-blown panic attack, the sobs didn't stop.

Ben gave up on holding his feelings back. He curled in on himself and finally, finally let the tears flow.

I^^I

Ben was aware that he wouldn't get an answer.

But he had his phone and he had Joe's number and he needed to get all this stuff off his chest.

(And if there was even the slightest, most irrational bit of hope that Joe would get his message, well. Nobody needed to know this situation was driving him crazy.)

So Ben wrote Joe the longest text message he had ever devised and he sent it.

Then, he turned his phone off completely and put it face down onto his bedside table.


	7. ben has a good time for once in this story

Ben needed a job.

It had been six days and seventeen hours since his arrival in the past and it was becoming obvious that he wouldn't just wake up back in the future at some point.

Ben only had so much money on him and he didn't really fancy living on the streets once he couldn't pay for his hotel room anymore.

So, he needed a job.

Ben was pretty sure his acting skills wouldn't get him anywhere in this time, or at least not fast enough. But since seemingly every actor had been a waiter at some point in their career, he decided it was time to fulfil that cliché.

Ben went back to that bar two days later. He got the job. Apparently, one of their employees had quit just a day before.

It didn't pay much - or he had just got used to having more money by now - and he wasn't so much a waiter as someone who did pretty much everything from cleaning tables to handing out drinks to sweeping the floor every night (morning) after they closed, but he did have a steady income and that was enough, he supposed.

He wouldn't starve, at least.

I^^I

Ben looked at his phone for the first time since texting Joe after his second day at his new job.

He'd had to charge it first, it had been over a week after all, but that wasn't a problem. He had his charger and there was an outlet in the bathroom, probably for hairdryers, and so it was maybe an hour before it was fully charged.

It was almost three in the morning by then, but Ben didn't really care. The bar closed late, he had known that and adjusted his sleep schedule accordingly.

Ben almost fainted when he saw that Joe had replied.

He hadn't even wanted to check. He had wanted to put his earphones in and listen to music, to be distracted, he'd wanted to play Angry Birds or something, to feel the familiar weight of his phone in his pocket at work and pretend that all of this was normal.

He had wanted to pretend that he wasn't stuck over forty years in the past.

But seeing that notification made Ben cry for the first time since his second day here, and he hadn't even read the message itself yet.

Opening it, Ben saw through blurry eyes that it was actually several messages, starting from a day after Ben had sent his own text. The latest was from three hours ago.

Ben almost felt guilty. Joe had to be worried about his lack of response by now.

I^^I

**Joe**  
_Ha-ha, very funny._  
(February 28th, 9:23 AM)

**Joe**  
_That sounds very emotional but also very creative. Time travel? Didn't think you'd think of something like that._  
(February 28th, 9:25 AM)

**Joe**  
_You're selling it pretty well, I think. Meeting Queen? Bri and Rog made an impression, didn't they? Are you going through BoRhap withdrawal?_  
(February 28th, 9:56 AM)

**Joe**  
_Why aren't you replying?_  
(March 1st, 5:16 PM)

**Joe**  
_Is this your way of convincing me to come to England?_  
(March 2nd, 10:46 AM)

**Joe**  
_If so, it might be working._  
(March 2nd, 1:03 PM)

**Joe**  
_Hello?_  
(March 3rd, 12:34 PM)

**Joe**  
_Are you okay?_  
(March 4th, 7:59 AM)

**Joe**  
_I'm actually getting worried._  
(March 4th, 8:21 AM)

**Joe**  
_Gwil says you haven't texted him. Rami, Lucy, and Allen don't know what's going on either. It's been six days. Seriously, are you alright?_  
(March 5th, 1:15 AM)

**Joe**  
_There's nothing on the news but maybe that just means they haven't found your body yet?_  
(March 6th, 5:12 PM)

**Joe**  
_That was a tasteless joke and I actually don't even want to think about that possibility. Please be okay, Ben._  
(March 6th, 5:24 PM)

**Joe**  
_Shit wait maybe you were serious about the time travel._  
(March 7th, 12:32 PM)

**Joe**  
_When are you?_  
(March 7th, 3:43 PM)

**Ben**  
_1974\. September 14th._  
(March 7th, 6:58 PM)

I^^I

Joe came online almost as soon as Ben responded.

Ben was still a little confused by his phone since it displayed all the dates and times from the future. He kind of got used to it being September by now, plus, it was decidedly not seven in the evening, but at least that way he could calculate what time it was for Joe right now.

Considering the time difference and assuming that Joe was in New York, it was almost one in the afternoon there and Ben was glad he hadn't woken his friend up.

Ben barely had the time to register that a message had popped up - _I'm calling you_, it said - before his phone started to play _You're My Best Friend_, the song that Joe had put as his ringtone for himself when he had managed to get Ben's phone in his hands.

Hands shaking, Ben swiped his thumb across the screen to accept the call.

_"Oh, thank god that worked,"_ was the first thing Joe said.

Hearing his voice calmed something so in deep in Ben's heart that he could almost forget his situation, forget the fact that a single wrong word to anyone could destroy the future as Ben knew it. Hearing his voice made Ben feel like this was just another day away from his friends, shooting a movie while the others were promoting BoRhap somewhere else. It made Ben feel safe and secure and finally, finally took some of that ever-present fear from him.

"Joe," he almost sobbed in relief.

_"Ben! Are you okay?"_

"Physically, yeah," Ben replied with a shaky voice. "Mentally... I don't know. This is a lot."

Joe huffed out a sympathetic laugh. _"I can imagine."_

Ben snorted, a tiny smile making its way onto his face. "No, you can't."

_"Yeah, no, I guess I can't. But I'm trying here, so give me some credit, will you?"_

The way Joe talked to him, joked with him like nothing was wrong comforted Ben to no end. He closed his eyes.

"What have you been up to since the Oscars, mate?" Ben asked, just to keep the other talking.

_"I feel like I should be the one to ask you that,"_ Joe snarked, _"but okay. Let me think...I uploaded the video I took when we went to 7/11; I was going to make a video where I broke up with cardboard you, but then you went off the grid so I kinda postponed that... I've also been thinking about making a YouTube channel, what's your professional opinion on that?"_

Ben laughed and flopped onto his bed, careful to keep the phone close to his ear. He didn't want to miss even one of Joe's words. "Are you joking? That would be amazing, your fans would go wild!"

_"Well, they'd go even wilder if they knew what you've been up to, Benny."_ There was a rustle in the background that sounded like Joe was sitting down somewhere - his couch maybe? _"And now spill - what was it like meeting Queen? I mean, you kind of know Bri and Rog, right, but what about Freddie? And John?"_

"They were great, yeah," Ben grinned, remembering that evening. "But they made me get absolutely shitfaced and now they think I'm a pornstar or something."

There was a choked gurgle from the other side before Joe started coughing and laughing at the same time. _"You can't-,"_ he started, trying and failing to talk through his fit. _"Can't just-"_ another cough- _"Just _say _something like that right when I'm trying to drink my coffee! How the _fuck _did you even manage that?"_

"Hey, I didn't know you were drinking coffee! Isn't it, like, noon for you right now, anyway?"

_"My life choices are my own, Ben."_

He snorted. "Yeah, whatever. To answer your question - I introduced them to Never Have I Ever and they proceeded to ask questions about whether anyone had kissed another man before and whether anyone had dressed up in drag before. All of which applied to me."

Joe started giggling again_. "Oh no."_

"Uh-huh. Roger found that last one particularly funny. Ironic, isn't it? The guy has no idea what's coming."

_"Man, I think I would have told him right then and there. Especially if I was drunk."_

"You would have told him without being drunk Joe," Ben snickered. "Anyway, I kind of remember telling John that he could be your dad? So that might have been weird. But I was, like, three seconds away from passing out by that point, I don't think they cared about it that much. They dragged me to their flat and I slept on their couch. And I puked when I woke up, so that was just stellar."

_"Oh my god, Ben!" _Joe started laughing again. And then_\- "Please keep an eye on John in 1983. I want to know the truth!"_

Ben frowned. "I kind of hoped I'd be back by then. Do you- do you think I might have changed something already? I don't want to fuck up the future."

_"Ben, don't worry," _Joe said, his voice soft and soothing now_. "If anything changed, it was so minor that nobody noticed. Really, the only way would be to ask Brian and Roger if they remembered something. And I would, really, but how would I tell them what happened to you?"_

"No, no, I get it." Ben sighed and rubbed his forehead. "They'd think all of this was some kind of tasteless, cruel joke. Which it would be - tasteless and cruel, I mean - except it's not a joke."

There were a few seconds if silence.

Then, Joe started a new topic, trying to distract Ben_. "So, where do you live right now? Not- not outside, right?"_

Ben huffed out a tired laugh. "No, no, I'm at a hotel. A pretty cheap one, because I really don't want to lose all my money that quickly. I had some in my suitcase, you know, a few hundred pounds and some dollars from America. The currency hasn't changed, only the value, I think. I'm just glad I didn't completely rely on my credit card, otherwise, I'd be fucked now. I have a job, too, they hired me at the bar I got drunk at. It's _very_ weird, I'm not used to that."

_"Pff, entitled."_

"Oh, shut up."

_"Different topic - have you had dinner yet?" _Joe asked. _"It's like, half past seven for you right now, right?"_

"It's actually almost three in the morning, but yeah, I ate something before I went to work."

_"Almost-? Oh, that's fucked up. I'm confused."_ Joe sighed and from what Ben could hear, he drank a few sips of his coffee before grunting in realisation. _"Wait, shit, you should go to sleep!"_

Ben sighed and rubbed his eyes. He could feel himself growing tired, but he really didn't want to end this call.

"'M not tired," he just mumbled.

_"Ben, I can practically hear your fatigue,"_ Joe insisted softly. _"I get it. I'm not going to hang up if you don't want me to."_

"I'm just afraid this calling thing isn't going to work again, y'know?"

_"It's worked for the past week, or at least the texting did. I think if that was the case for so long, it's not just going to stop working now,"_ Joe reassured him. _"Just try to sleep, okay?"_

Ben sighed again but finally closed his eyes. "Okay. You... I guess you can hang up when I'm asleep, then."

_"Alright. I'm here, Benny."_

Ben fell asleep within seconds.


	8. kensington market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben tries to buy new clothes and stumbles upon Kensington Market

When Ben woke up, it was half-past eleven and he felt well-rested for the first time since arriving in the past.

As he sat up, he found his phone lying on the pillow beside him, a message from Joe lighting up the screen.

**Joe**  
_Goodnight!_  
(March 7th, 11:17 PM)

Ben went to eat breakfast with a smile on his face and then decided to finally get some time-appropriate clothes.

He had got a lot of weird looks already, both because of his clothes and his hair. Ben's hair was still too short to do anything about that, but he could at least change the former.

He quickly grabbed some money from his room and then went out to find a place that sold cheap clothes. He didn't really want to throw all of his money out for unnecessarily expensive ones, especially since he didn't have too much left.

He wandered around the city for a good hour, occasionally getting distracted by things that were different from modern-day London but pointedly staying away from where he now knew Queen lived.

When he finally stumbled upon a marketplace with dozens of stalls selling second-hand clothes, Ben knew he had found what he'd been looking for.

As Ben was browsing the stalls, occasionally avoiding one or the other because some of their clothes were just ugly, no matter if it was the seventies or not, someone suddenly called his name.

"Hey, Ben! Is that you?"

He looked up and blinked. Why the hell was Roger Taylor selling clothes only a few feet away from him?

Then he realised what this place must be - Kensington Market.

Ben hadn't known that Freddie and Roger had still been selling clothes at this point in time. With two albums already out and a third one on the way, he would have guessed the extra money the two of them made this way wasn't needed.

"Uh, hey," Ben said, coming to a stop in front of their stall. "What... are you doing here?"

"Selling clothes, obviously," Roger responded with a wink, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. "Freddie and I do it sometimes, it's still fun once in a while and the money we get doesn't hurt." He shrugged.

"But enough about me, what are _you _doing here, Mister Pornstar? I knew I recognized your... interesting haircut. I've only met you once before, but I swear I could identify you anywhere by that alone."

Ben looked Roger dead in the eyes, unsurprised by the man's joke but still not exactly thrilled. "You might want to stop watching porn, then," he said dryly. "Because that could make things very awkward very quickly."

Roger gaped at him for a second, mouth slightly open and obviously thrown off his rhythm, but then he started grinning and winked. "Who says I wouldn't enjoy it?"

This time, Ben couldn't find a good answer. Instead, he just found himself blushing. And staring.

Ben cleared his throat and scratched his neck, desperately trying to remember what Roger had asked him before. "Uhh, yeah. My- my hairdresser fucked up a bit," Ben blurted out with a scratchy voice.

"Huh?"

"My hair. You told me it looked 'interesting'-" Ben made quotation marks with his fingers, finally regaining his confidence- "but with a tone that said you hated it. So. My hairdresser fucked up."

Roger's face lit up in understanding. "Oh! Right, yeah. Well, you still haven't answered my question, you know. What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? Buying clothes, obviously," Ben quipped, imitating what Roger had said earlier. He looked around, inspecting the pile of clothes on the table in between Roger and him to see if he found anything he might like.

"Oh, wait!" Roger lifted a finger and almost spat out his cigarette in excitement. "I think I have something for you!"

Ben's eyes flickered back up to him. "You do?"

He half expected the man to give him a dress when he crouched down and began digging through some boxes under the table, but to his surprise, Roger came back up with two shirts. One was made of denim and the other was black with white flowers and leaves entwined on the fabric.

Ben vaguely remembered wearing something similar on set.

"Go try them on!" Roger encouraged him, pressing the shirts into his hands and pointing to a small changing cubicle half-hidden behind the market stall.

"Uh...okay."

The shirts fit Ben surprisingly well, even if he wasn't the biggest fan of the double denim look. But such was the fashion of the seventies and he could hardly do anything about that. His goal for the moment was simply to fit in and if he had to wear these clothes to accomplish that, he would.

"Are those shirts yours?" he asked through the curtain of the cubicle.

"Yeah," was Roger's answer. "I don't really wear them anymore, though, so it was time to get rid of them."

"Ah."

There were a few seconds of silence as Ben unbuttoned the denim shirt to change into the black one.

Then he asked: "Where is Freddie, by the way? Didn't you say the two of you worked here together?" Ben stepped out of the cubicle.

"Oh, I don't know," Roger shrugged, looking Ben up and down. "He went to get lunch half an hour ago, but who knows what distracted him this time. If he picked up another cat from some kind of back alley, I'm gonna kill him." He shook his head in fond exasperation.

"The shirt looks good on you," Roger then added with a smile, leaning against the table and crossing his ankles.

"Thanks," Ben smiled. "I might just keep this one on, to be honest. How much are they?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, just take them."

"You can't just give away clothes for free, Roger, that's a terrible way to run a business!"

Roger grinned. "It's good that this isn't my main business, then. Come on, try to think of it as an apology for getting you sloshed."

"Fine," Ben sighed, not accepting it at all. "Well, thank you again. I think I'll have to get going - work, y'know."

"Ah, yes, the porn industry never sleeps." Roger giggled at his own pun.

"Oh, fuck off. I was going to wish you a nice day, but you just lost that privilege."

Nonetheless, as Ben left, he slipped twenty pounds into the pocket of an outrageous fur coat that was obviously Roger's hanging by the side of the market stall.

It made him feel better about potentially having fucked up the timeline once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny clarification - fred and rog still selling stuff there in 1974 is one of the timeline changes i made up for this "alternate universe", in reality, they stopped doing that in 1971 (i think)


	9. bar talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben works at the bar and roger goes there entirely too often for ben's state of mind

The last two weeks of September had passed without any more occurrences or meetings with any member of Queen for Ben and so far, October didn't seem to be much different.

In this time, he got his first salary from working at the bar and spent it in a matter of minutes by paying for his hotel room.

Ben also found out that he could still access every app on his phone, even social media and the internet - he just couldn't interact with anyone besides Joe. He saw what his friends posted on Instagram, watched the YouTube videos Joe had started uploading and got news on what was going on in the world of the future.

But.

He couldn't _do _anything.

Ben couldn't even text the others or write something in their group chat.

It seemed that the ability to contact Joe was the only favour the universe had decided to grant him.

In those weeks, Joe started to become almost like his therapist. Ben knew it wasn't the best idea and that it probably weighed on his friend a lot, but Joe was literally the only one to whom he could talk about it.

And so he told Joe everything that happened. It was uplifting, even though Ben was sometimes overwhelmed by the fact that he would probably never get to see any of his other friends again. Or his family. Or Frankie.

God, he really missed his dog.   
He had left her with his neighbour, a woman in her late sixties who was sure to spoil Frankie even more than Ben did.   
She wasn't really aware of his being more or less famous, even though she knew about his job and he hadn't even told her how long he would be gone for - but at least that turned out to be a good thing, now.

At some point, Ben stopped following the news of the future and unsubscribed to every online news agency he had kept track of. What use did they have for him now, anyway?

The discovery that facetime calls worked with Joe made Ben's day better, though. In fact, it bettered all of his days from that moment on. They started thinking about Joe inviting Gwil, Allen, Rami and Lucy over. Maybe if their friends were there when they facetimed, Ben could see them again through Joe's phone?

Neither of them was sure it would work, but Ben clung onto the hope that it would while Joe started pestering the others about a reunion.

Meanwhile, Ben went to work every evening. The motions of handing out drinks, cleaning tables and sweeping the floor slowly but surely became ingrained into his system until they were pure muscle memory, allowing him to completely let his thoughts drift at work most of the time.

As October proceeded, the nights grew cooler and darker, resulting in fewer people coming to the bar. That didn't really bother Ben. It wouldn't affect his paycheck and he liked it when it was a bit quieter, anyways.

Today was one of those chilly nights. It was eleven PM, there were maybe a dozen people in the bar and Ben was cleaning a glass when the door opened with a bang.

That was the second time this had happened in his time here and Ben had a very bad feeling about it.

Never one to disappoint, Roger spoke up from behind him only a minute later.

"Either you're stalking me or I'm stalking you, I can't decide."

Ben turned around with raised eyebrows, not halting in his motions of polishing the glass. Roger was leaning on the counter of the bar, his arms resting on the smooth surface and a grin on his face.

"Considering you're the one who started the conversation every single time we've met - including now - my bet is on the latter," Ben replied, only a slight twitch of his lips showing that he wasn't unhappy to see Roger once again.

It seemed that his sole enemy in keeping him from changing the future was Roger Taylor himself, though.

"I see you brought the others, too," Ben said, spotting Freddie, John and Brian at the same table as last time. "Chardonnay, Guinness, a normal vodka and that unpronounceable Russian one with ice?" He was proud of himself for remembering that much from his first evening here.

"Stolichnaya, yeah," Roger nodded.

They were silent for some time as Ben finally put down the glass and took out four new ones, each of them appropriate for the drink they would contain. When he opened the bottle of white wine, Roger spoke up again.

"The fact that you know our order for drinks just makes _you _seem like the stalker, you know."

Ben looked up at him for a moment and then fixed his gaze back on the glass and bottle in his hands, careful not to spill anything as he started pouring. "I wasn't drunk at that point yet. And you made me carry two of the glasses; I think the trauma of forced socialisation of that grade was enough to make me remember the moment."

Roger let out a laugh. "Fair enough."

Ben finished pouring the other drinks. "Do you want a tray or do I have to undergo my trauma once more?" he grinned.

"You could just join us, you know."

"Yeah, not today, Satan," Ben mumbled under his breath. "I'm not falling for that again. Plus, I'm at work, Roger," he added a bit louder so the man could hear.

Roger just waved a hand dismissively. "So? I drink at work all the time!"

"You're in a rock band, I think that's required," Ben deadpanned with a raised eyebrow.

Still, he grabbed the two vodkas and made his way around the counter, Roger quickly catching up to him on the way to the band's table.

"Surprise," Ben announced as he set down their respective drinks in front of John and Freddie. "You found me. Please don't get me drunk again."

"What are you doing here?" Brian asked, pleasantly surprised, leaning back in his chair.

"I work here, as of three weeks ago," Ben replied. "I assume you're celebrating something again?"

Roger hummed in confirmation as he sat down, but it was Freddie who answered. "We just arranged to go on tour in Europe and America again, starting at the end of this month. And we're going to be on Top Of The Pops with a new song very soon."

"Hey, congratulations!" Ben grinned. "Well, I can't wait to listen to your album when it comes out."

He was trying to figure out which album it was that they were doing the tour for. It wasn't _A Night At The Opera_, that had only come out in 1975, but Ben was also pretty sure that their first tour in America had been for _Queen II _earlier this year. Which left..._Sheer Heart Attack_? That was in between those two, right? And they would be on Top Of The Pops with _Killer Queen_.

"Well, anyway, have fun," Ben said, keeping himself from asking any questions and instead starting to move backwards in the direction of the bar again. "I have to get back to work now." He waved and then turned around, walking away.

Ben didn't see Roger's slight pout as the man watched him leave or the way Freddie, John and Brian looked at their friend in amusement.

When he left the bar a few hours later, Ben was actually disappointed at not having found the time to sit with Queen again, despite the rational part of his mind telling him it was better this way.

I^^I

Ben wasn't sure if he should have been surprised when Roger came to the bar again the next evening. And the next one. And the one after that.

Since the other three were never with him for some reason, Roger talked to Ben almost the whole time he spent there. At first, Ben was still hesitant, not wanting to give anything away that might hint at inconsistencies in his life, might make the other suspicious or had the potential to fuck up the future. Or all of the above.

But in time, Ben started to relax and became more open, resulting in some great and interesting conversations.

"Have you ever played the drums before?" Roger asked one evening, casually holding a lit cigarette between two of his fingers. He was holding his glass of whiskey with the same hand, idly swirling the amber liquid inside.

Ben looked up from his crossword puzzle. He had started bringing those to work sometime during his second week on the job since it could get horribly boring when there were only a few visitors in the bar - something that happened increasingly often the colder and rainier it got.

"A few times, yeah," Ben nodded. "Can't play too many songs though. Just some of yours."

He looked down again, furrowing his eyebrows as he saw a few squares without any letters in them yet. "You know a body of water with an 'L' in the beginning?"

"A lake, maybe?" Roger took a sip of his drink. "Well, which of our songs can you play? I'm honoured!" He grinned.

Ah, fuck. That was a problem. Most of the songs Ben had played in the movie weren't even out yet.

"I tried _Keep Yourself Alive_ once," he huffed, hoping that was enough of an answer. "It went well until the part with the drum solo."

Roger laughed. "There's no need to feel bad about that. Especially since playing the drums isn't your job."

Ben cracked a small smile, thinking, _'For a few months, it was.' _

"Thanks," was all he said instead, putting the end of his pencil to his lips. "But no, 'lake' doesn't work. It's gotta have six letters."

Roger looked miffed. "Damn it."

I^^I

"A fucking lagoon!"

Ben almost dropped the glass he was holding when Roger stormed in the next day, yelling at the top of his lungs. Trying to calm down, he put it on the waist-high counter behind the bar and clutched one hand to his chest.

"What in the hell, Roger?" Ben panted. "What are you even talking about?"

Roger threw himself into one of the bar stools, grinning proudly. "A water body with six letters and an 'L' in the beginning - a lagoon!"

Ben let his hip sag against the counter and buried his face in one hand, exasperatedly gesturing with the other. "You seriously thought about that for a whole day? And then scared me half to death just to tell me the answer?"

Roger frowned. "Not for a whole day. I do have to sleep, you know."

"Do you-" Ben sighed, lifting his head back up to look at Roger. "Do you not have anything better to do? I thought you were preparing for a tour."

"Yeah, so?" The other man shrugged. "I'll just throw some clothes in a bag before we leave. Everything else isn't my fucking problem."

Ben decided to just take that as it was. He was pretty sure it wasn't that easy, the passport situation alone had to be a nightmare, just like the transporting of the instruments, but he supposed someone else was responsible enough to figure that out.

"Alright then," Ben just nodded in response, picking the glass he'd set down on the counter before back up. "Do you want a whiskey again?"

"Absolutely."

Two hours later, Roger was slightly drunk and telling a story about how Brian had accidentally burned-slash-molten his clogs after getting them wet and leaving them to dry in front of a heater for too long.

Ben giggled at Roger trying to imitate Brian's devastated voice and was for once not saddened by the thought of Gwilym and how he - without meaning disrespect to Roger - was probably better at that than the drummer.

"I would have paid good money to be a fly on that wall," Ben grinned. "Do things like that happen often when you guys are on tour?"

Roger snorted. "Often enough. I mean, Bri almost died earlier this year, that was a bit of a fright for all of us, really. But it is great, normally."

"Well, you'll see what happens on this next tour." Ben almost sighed wistfully, mumbling, "I wish I could come with you guys."

He had seen Queen and Adam Lambert perform before, of course, and had watched a lot of videos on YouTube, from the Sheer Heart Attack tour as well, but actually being at a live concert of the original band? That was something Ben could always only dream of since getting to play Roger in BoRhap.

It had been impossible, then. Of course. But the fact that now everyone was _alive _and the band was _all together_ and Ben was _actually in the right time_ and he still couldn't see them play - that just made it even worse.

Ben shook himself out of his thoughts. He couldn't change it and it would be stupid to spend any more time thinking about that fact. That would just make his mood worse.

"When are you leaving again?" he asked instead before looking up and wiggling his eyebrows. "Just so I know when my most interesting customer will be gone. I'll have to start bringing a book so I don't die of boredom. Or the crosswords from the newspapers of the last ten years."

Roger grinned back at him. His smile seemed a bit sad for a split second, but that aspect faded so quickly that Ben was sure he had only imagined it.

"The day after tomorrow, actually. But we'll only be touring the UK at first, you know, I think we'll even have two shows here in London at some point." His speech was already a bit slurred, but not nearly enough for Roger to appear really drunk. He seemed tipsy at best.

"Well, then you should start 'throwing some clothes in a bag' pretty soon."

Ben filled another glass with some more expensive Whiskey and pushed it across the counter towards Roger, jokingly looking around like he expected a SWAT team to come crashing into the bar and arrest him for doing wrong at any moment. "This one's on the house," he whispered with a wink. "For good luck."

Roger's grin widened. He took the glass and lifted it, inclining his head towards Ben with playful solemnity. "I shall forever be grateful to you for this gift."

Ben chuckled again.

"But no, really," Roger said. "Thank you."


	10. frankie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben remembers that he had/has a dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the hits, kudos, the bookmarks and the lovely, lovely comments! I never expected this story to get this much attention, and we're not even halfway through yet!   
I may not reply to most of your comments (because i never really know what to say, honestly 😅) but just know that i appreciate every single one of them.

Ben didn't see Roger for what seemed like an eternity but was barely three weeks.

In the meantime, he read _If Beale Street Could Talk_ (it was weird to find _that _in the book shop - the novel had only come out this year, but Ben had just seen the movie adaptation be nominated for several Oscars and even win one), and after seeing at least seven books related to J.R.R. Tolkien, who had apparently died not long before, he decided to start reading _The Lord of The Rings_, too.

That, at least, had enough pages to keep Ben occupied for about a year, it seemed.

He also started to bring his phone to work more often, occasionally even daring to text Joe when he was sure nobody was looking at him.

The thing was, it was just _so boring_ at work without anyone to talk to.

He had complained about it to Joe often enough if the way the other teased him about his "crush" was any indication.

And that was precisely Ben's problem.

He had said he'd turn for Roger (at least as much as a bisexual person could 'turn', he'd mostly said that because he wasn't out yet) and as already established, it hadn't been a lie.

And now that he'd got to know the younger Roger quite well, he really couldn't say that his opinion had changed. Quite the opposite, actually.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Ben's feelings for Roger Taylor had changed from "cool rock-god uncle" to "cool hot funny rock-god crush oh my god".

It wasn't only the guy's looks - although he _was_ incredibly handsome.  
No, it was the way Roger told anecdotes, with gleaming eyes and a wide, honest smile on his face. It was the way he drummed a new beat on the countertop with his fingertips, one that Ben occasionally even recognized. It was the way he sometimes stared into space, humming a melody to a new song or softly singing along to a song that was playing on the radio. The way his face lit up on the rare occasions when a song by Queen was played.

That had almost made Ben take out his phone and play the entirety of _Queen_ and _Queen II_ just to make Roger smile like that again.

But most of all, it was his personality. Roger was what one might call world-smart, with an incredible sense for details, remembering even the most inconsequential of things. He was much smarter than he pretended to be most of the time. Roger made a lot of stupid jokes and puns as well, but it never failed to make Ben laugh even when he was having a shitty day, overthinking the problems that came with time travel.

Roger was warm and laid back and no matter how hard Ben had tried to stay away from him in the beginning, for obvious reasons, he had found that he just couldn't. Roger simply made it too easy for Ben to like him.

In a way, he was almost glad Roger would be gone for the next weeks. It gave Ben some time to gather himself, to try and get over his little crush before he did something he would most certainly regret.

In the meantime, Ben talked to Joe at least once a day, most of the time they facetimed, but if Joe didn't have a lot of time, they just texted.

The other was going through a rough patch at the moment - his late father's birthday had just passed, which had made Joe realize he really wasn't over his dad's death yet and had sent him back into mourning.

Ben, worried, listened to him whenever Joe wanted to just let go. He couldn't personally relate to Joe's pain, but Ben tried to comfort him as well as he was able to.

That was the one thing he almost felt responsible to do - Joe had tried to make him feel better about being stuck in the wrong decade for weeks now and, having already seen Joe in pain during the filming of Bohemian Rhapsody, Ben couldn't just let the other suffer like that again. Comfort was the one thing he could give back to Joe and Ben would do that if it was the last thing he did.

Luckily, it seemed to have worked at least a bit and Joe had been a bit closer to his usual, playful self the last time they had talked.

Personally, Ben had always found his dog, Frankie, to be great at making himself feel better about things. To him, almost nothing compared to cuddling with the tiny beagle. Her warmth and the feeling of her soft fur made adoration blossom in his heart and had always distracted him from whatever was wrong at the moment.

_'It's a pity Joe can't cuddle with her,' _Ben thought before his eyes widened and he grabbed his phone so quickly he almost dropped it.  
He was damned lucky that he was sitting on his bed in the hotel room.

Almost shaking with excitement, Ben called Joe, his legs bouncing as he waited for him to pick up.  
"C'mon, mate," he mumbled.

After an agonising thirty seconds, a muffled click finally signalled that Joe had accepted the call.

_"What the fuck, Ben,"_ was the first thing he said, his voice thick with sleep.

"You have to fly to London."

_"What?"_ A stifled groan sounded from the speaker. _"It's...fucking six AM, Ben, what the hell do you want?"_

"Oh..." Ben remembered the time difference between them. Apparently, Joe was always about thirteen hours behind him. "Sorry. But I just had _the_ best idea."

_"Urgh...what is it?"_ Joe mumbled, his voice muffled in a way that suggested he had pushed his face into the pillow.

"So you know how everything immediately gets better when you can cuddle with your pet?"

_"True,"_ Joe responded still sounding half asleep. _"I still don't see your point, though. I don't have a pet."_

"Not yet."

_"What?"_

"Look, I obviously can't look after Frankie anymore and she's been with my neighbour for almost two months. And I think she would cheer you up."   
Ben started picking at his comforter. It hurt to just give Frankie away like that, but it was the best option.  
"I'd trust you with her, Joe."

_"Wait, wait, hold on,"_ Joe stopped him, slightly more awake this time. _"You're saying you want me to go to England and get Frankie? Like, adopt her or whatever?"_

"Yeah... If- if you'd want to?" Now Ben was becoming unsure about the whole idea. It was true, that decision had been rushed. And he'd woken up Joe for no good reason and what if he didn't even want to have Frankie?  
"I mean, you don't have to, of course. I just thought maybe-"

_"Ben! Ben,"_ Joe interrupted him, _"It's okay, I'd love to adopt Frankie."_

"Oh, thank god." A smile made its way onto Ben's face.

_"I'll book a flight sometime this week and get her. I could ask if the others are free in the next days, too,"_ Joe added. _"Then maybe I could tell them about your situation and we can finally try to call you to see if it works!"_

Now Ben was outright grinning. "That would be great!"

_"I know,"_ Joe responded in a jokingly arrogant tone. _"It was my idea, after all."_

Ben snorted. "Okay, Lord Joseph."

_"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna go back to sleep, now."_

"Alright, sweet dreams, my lord."

_"Fuck you."_


	11. joe has excellent timing in this one

Ben's phone rang in the inside pocket of his jacket just as he was leaving the bar.

There weren't any people to be seen on the street at this time of the night, but still Ben tried to muffle the sound with his jacket as fast as possible.

"Shit! _Shit_," Ben cursed, trying to keep his voice down.

He quickly ducked into the nearest alley that was only a few feet from the bar and usually a place where couples could be found making out as if their lives depended on it.

Only when he was sure nobody could see or hear him even if they went right by the alley did Ben take out his phone and accepted the call.

"What is it, Joe?" he asked with a hushed voice. "It's two in the morning and I'm in public!"

_"Oh, shit, sorry,"_ Joe answered. _"It's just that your neighbour doesn't believe me you sent me and doesn't want me to take Frankie."_

"Jesus."

Ben had sent Joe the address of his neighbour a few minutes after their last call had ended. Joe had flown to London the next day, as he had informed Ben over text, and had spent his first day there by pestering Gwilym, Rami and Lucy to finally meet up - which had worked.

He had even rented a car for the few days he was going to be there.

And now he was apparently stopped in his strides of success by Ben's sixty-seven-year-old, five-foot-three neighbour.

"Alright, let me talk to her, then," Ben huffed in amusement.

_"Okay, wait a sec,"_ Joe said. There was a _"He wants to talk to you"_ from further away before a new voice reached Ben's ear.

_"Benjamin?"_

"It's still just Ben, but hello, Mrs Mortensen," Ben greeted her with an unseen smile.

_"So you did send that young man?"_

"Yeah, yeah," Ben confirmed, dragging a hand through his hair and trying to think of a good excuse. "I just... you know, I'm shooting a movie at the moment and I'm really busy but I didn't want to trouble you any more. You've had to take care of Frankie for two months now. So I asked my friend Joe to go and get her. I forgot to call you in advance, though, sorry about that."

_"Oh, it's no trouble, sweetheart,"_ Mrs Mortensen replied. _"Frankie is being a very good girl."_

Ben huffed a laugh. "I'm relieved."

_"Well, alright then,"_ Mrs Mortensen said and Ben could hear the smile in her voice. _"I suppose I shall go get her things. Would you mind-"_

Her voice faded as she presumably handed the phone back to Joe.

_"-es, of course. Ben, it's going to be a minute to get the stuff together and get that and Frankie in the car. I'll call you back."_

"Sure. Later, buddy."

After Joe hung up, Ben just stood in the darkness of the alley for a few minutes, contemplating whether it would be a safe attempt to reach his hotel before Joe called again. It was pretty cold since it was actually nearing the end of November and Ben could see his breath every time he exhaled. Ben guessed he had at least ten minutes until Joe called him again, but the area his hotel was in was much more crowded as opposed to this deserted street.

In the end, Ben decided to just wait here. He started to lean on the wall of the alley before he realized what regularly went on here and very quickly pushed himself away from it. Ben supposed if he had a blacklight, the entire wall would probably start glowing from the amounts of jizz on them.

_You're My Best Friend_ started to play again after maybe a quarter of an hour as Joe called him back.

"I really hope you're not on your phone while you're driving, Joe," was the first thing Ben said after he accepted the call.

_"I'm not, don't worry,"_ Joe answered with a laugh. _"This car has a hands-free system."_

"Yeah, I sure hope it does." Ben smiled. "Anyways, I'm happy all of this worked out so well. How's Frankie?"

_"She seems alright, a bit nervous, maybe, but I think she likes me."_

"Good. That's... that's good."

There was a short moment in which neither of them said anything before Ben could hear Joe breathe in sharply.

"Are you okay, Joe?" Ben asked, slightly worried.

_"Yeah, no, I'm good,"_ Joe answered, an excited tone in his voice. _"I just realized that you could talk to your neighbour over my phone. That means it'll most likely work when I meet up with the others as well."_

Ben's eyes widened and all the air seemed to have left his lungs all of a sudden.

He could talk to his friends again. To Gwil, to Lucy and Rami, even to Allen if he wanted. He could hear their voices, see their faces when they facetimed.

Ben might even be able to talk to his parents, provided Joe would be willing to do so much travelling for Ben.

A lot of Ben's future interactions with anyone from his own time depended on Joe, actually. He felt almost guilty to make Joe do so much for him, but he really was the only way for Ben to keep in touch with anyone or anything from his previous life.

But what if Joe didn't want to spend so much money on travelling? What if he'd rather focus on his job than run around the world to find someone Ben wanted to talk to? What if-

_"Ben, are you alright?"_ Joe's voice interrupted Ben's train of thought and effectively tore him away from his increasingly panicky imaginings.

Ben swallowed, trying to find his voice again. "Yeah, I'm- yeah. That's- it's a big deal to me, is all."

_"I can believe that,"_ Joe huffed softly in response. _"Look, I'm pretty sure I know what you're thinking, but don't worry. I would literally walk through fire if it meant I could help you in your situation, okay? Well, maybe not fire because then I'd die, but like, a sauna, I guess. I'd walk through a _sauna _for you, Ben."_

That made Ben crack a smile again. "Okay, Joe, whatever you say." He snorted. "I'd be content if you just travelled from New York to London once in a while, but if you like saunas so much, who am I to keep you away from them?"

_"Oh, fuck off."_

"Why do we always end up insulting each other?" Ben asked in a jokingly whiny voice. "Are you going to break up with me? Are you gonna leave me for Cardy B?".

_"...You mean to tell me that you're not the same person?"_

Ben let out a gasp. "How dare you cheat on me, Joe!"

They squabbled on like that for at least ten minutes before Ben's phone signalled him that it had less than ten per cent battery left and he had to hang up.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket with a happy grin on his face - at this time, it was probably too dark for anyone to see the outline of his phone, anyway - before he left the alley.

What he had not expected, however, was to run headfirst into a passing Roger Taylor as Ben came out of the alleyway.


	12. freddie knows best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quick look at what roger and the boys have been up to until now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you wanted to know why Roger suddenly appeared at the end of the last chapter, whether he heard Ben talking to Joe and if so, what his reaction would be. which is why there's no mention of that at all in this chapter.  
There is, however, an overwelming amount of expletives in this one.  
Have fun!!

Their tour had been going great so far. The crowds were amazing, their music was, apart from a few minor mistakes on stage, as good as always and their performances were spectacular if Roger could say so himself.

He always loved going on tour. There were new venues to play in, they could extend their reach and find new fans, they could get to know new and exciting places.

They had only played in the UK on this tour as of now, of course, but it would get even better once they left for the rest of Europe and then America.

Their next stop after this would be somewhere in Sweden, but right now, the band was back in London. They had two shows at the Rainbow Theatre - one today, on November the 19th, and one show tomorrow.

Right now, Roger was sitting in a car with John, Freddie and Brian. They were on their way to the theatre and, as they always were before a gig, slightly nervous but at the same time ecstatic to get to perform their music.

Roger had to admit, though, that it had felt odd not to go to the bar and talk to Ben in the evenings, especially on the first few days of the tour. He had got so used to seeing Ben, to joke with and tease him that Roger now actually missed him.

It was strange, to say in the least. Of course, Roger had always got along wonderfully with most people he met, he was a very warm and open person, after all. But he also forgot about most of these people fairly quickly, not really caring about becoming any more than an acquaintance to them.

Except if they were hot girls who wanted something from him - in that case, Roger would gladly become more intimate. But even when that was the case, Roger made sure they knew there was nothing serious between him and whomever he had slept with that night.

In short, Roger liked people but he wasn't one to make fast friends with random strangers.

Which was why it surprised Roger so much when he realized that was exactly what had happened with Ben. Roger had acted completely against his own nature and now actually considered Ben one of his best friends despite having known him for only a little over two months.

The car stopped, distracting Roger from his musings. He got out after Deaky, followed by Brian and Freddie.

For some reason, there were cameras both outside and inside the theatre, filming some of the things they did backstage as well. Roger wasn't really bothered by them, even though it was an unusual feeling, like he was being watched.

Spotting another camera, Roger grinned and made a kissy face before going to get changed into his stage clothes.

He'd be wearing black pants and a black cardigan with a lot of gold embroidery on it today. Considering that drumming for two hours would make him sweat like crazy, Roger had stopped wearing shirts on stage a long time ago.

The others were getting changed, too. Freddie and Brian were going to wear the wide-sleeved white tunics that made them look like they had wings and that they both seemed to be so fond of, while Deaky would be wearing a normal white shirt - that he apparently planned on leaving unbuttoned almost down to his navel - and a black blazer.

"Brian, Freddie - you look like geese or something," Roger giggled, always happy to make fun of his friends.

Brian just sighed and levelled a flat look at Roger. "This is the third time you've said that, Rog, and it's still not funny."

"Besides, if anything we look like swans," Freddie added, throwing his arms up and showing off his 'wings' like the diva he was.

John poked Roger in the side, earning him an "Ouch! Damn it, Deaky!" and pressed a tube of eyeliner into his hands. Roger grumbled a bit but went over to the mirror to apply it.

"You look like angels," John corrected them both. "It's Roger's fault he's too blind to see the resemblance."

"Oi!" Roger almost threw the eyeliner at John's head. "How is it my fault if my eyes are shit?"

"Glasses exist, Rog," Brian said in an almost condescending tone.

"Yeah, well if our production company would actually give us some money for once then maybe I could afford some."

It was true - they had been selling loads of records since _Killer Queen_ had been on Top Of The Pops and every one of their shows since then had been sold out, but they had yet to see any money. They were slowly but surely getting the feeling that their record company was screwing them over.

"Yes, well, you seem to have had enough money to go to the bar and visit your new friend every day before the tour started, dear," Freddie said, grinning like this was a winning argument. "Is there something you would like to tell us, Rog?"

"I...what does that even-"

Before Roger could finish, the stage manager burst into the room. "Boys, you're up!" he yelled. Then he hurried back out.

"I'm not letting you off the hook that easily, darling," Freddie said with a half stern, half-amused look before he followed the stage manager outside.

Roger just shook his head, choosing to forget about whatever it was that Freddie was talking about, at least until the show was over.

Roger waited for Brian and John to pick up the Red Special and the Rickenbacker respectively before closing the dressing room behind them and following them on the stage.

I^^I

Roger let himself fall onto the couch in their dressing room.  
He was sweaty, exhausted and his hands and arms hurt after drumming for two hours, but he couldn't shower because Freddie was taking his time in the sole bathroom of the venue.

Brian had gone in first, not even trying to wash his hair because he knew it would take hours to dry. Now he was getting dressed, the jeans and loose shirt probably way more comfortable than the tightly laced batwing tunic from before.

John, too, was in the dressing room, right next to Roger on the couch and leaning on his shoulder. He was only wearing underwear and a soft white bathrobe, and seemed entirely too cosy to move at all.

Despite feeling sticky and disgusting from all the sweat, his exhaustion, the comfortable silence in the room and lying on the couch made Roger sleepy. His eyes suddenly felt like he couldn't keep them open for another second.

Roger leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, only planning on keeping them shut for a moment but before he knew it, Roger had dozed off.

He was startled awake maybe fifteen minutes later when Freddie threw open the door, his bathrobe seemingly alive and in tune with his dramatic behaviour as it fluttered in the slight draft.

"Roger, dear," he exclaimed with no respect for Roger's still sleep-muddled mind whatsoever, striding over to the couch and squeezing himself in between Roger and a barely fazed John. "Tell me - what is going on with you and Ben?"

"What the fuck, Fred?" Roger blinked at his friend in confusion, his eyes longing to drift close again after being woken up so abruptly and his brain still too slow to comprehend what the hell Freddie was on about now.

"Well, I did say I wasn't going to let you off the hook that easily," Freddie said, throwing his arm over Roger's shoulders with a grin. "So, you and Ben. What is the deal?"  
  


Roger blinked again. "He's my friend?" Was that not obvious? He had thought he'd been fairly open about that fact. "I mean, I suppose he's also a fan. But not like those groupies who just scream when they see us and want to fuck and nothing more." Roger felt a smile making its way onto his face.

"No, Ben is genuinely interested in our work. He can play the drums a bit, did you know? He even tried the drum solo in _Keep Yourself Alive_, the mad bastard. Ben's also really smart, fucking does crosswords for fun, can you believe it?"

Roger stopped himself when he saw the looks his three bandmates were throwing at each other - they seemed disbelieving, slightly critical and in big parts amused.

"Fuck off, guys!" Roger blurted, thinking they didn't believe him. "He's just really nice, I like him! Not intrusive or anything." He paused for a second, remembering something. "Alright, well, he did say he'd like to see us play on our tour, but that's not really _weird_. Also, I'm pretty sure Ben thought I didn't hear that. It's not like he was begging to come along or anything!"

Deaky was giggling into the sleeve of his bathrobe by this point and Brian was outright grinning. Freddie just rolled his eyes, an expression of utter disbelief and exasperation on his face.

"Good lord," he mumbled. "Just ask him to come along, then. I'm sure it won't bother us at all, just as long as you stop your damn pining."

Roger spluttered. "Wha- I'm not-"

"Hey," Brian complained in a whiny voice, not bothering to wait for Roger to find the right words and express his denial of that accusation. "Why can't Chrissie come along? We're married, for god's sake!"

While Brian may not have been entirely serious, it was a valid question.

"Because-" John butted in, lifting a finger- "you don't talk about her all day long and are actually able to spend time apart from her without going on and on and_ on_ about her, talking our ears off."

Brian grunted. "Alright, that's fair."

"Wait, guys, what the fuck's that supposed to mean?" Roger cried out. "I don't talk about Ben that often!"

John buried his face in his hands. "Oh my god..."

"He doesn't even realize it!" Brian laughed in disbelief.

Freddie just threw his hands up. "It's official, you're beyond saving, dear."

"Wh- Fucking why?!"

"It's nothing, don't worry your pretty little head about it." Freddie patted the top of Roger's head with a sigh. "Just invite Ben to come along and everyone will be happy."

Roger squinted his eyes. "...If you say so. But if any of you complain about him coming along, I swear to god-"

"Roger, you do realize we actually like Ben, right?" Brian asked.

"At least we did those two times we met him," John added, cocking his head to the side. "The schoolgirl story was funny. Anyway, as long as he doesn't mess up anything about our instruments, we'll all get along great."

"That's right." Freddie clapped his hands, glad to have found a way to stop Roger from talking about Ben all day long for the foreseeable future. Then he poked Roger in the side. "And now go shower, please, you stink horrendously, darling."

"Oh, fuck you," Roger just grumbled, but he did get up and made his way out of the dressing room.

"Wait a fucking second!" Brian's voice sounded from behind Roger when he was almost out of earshot. "Ben does crosswords? Is that why you asked me what a body of water with six letters could be? At three in the morning?"

Roger snorted and quickened his pace in case Brian decided to come after him.

"Fucking-_ Roger!_"


	13. an invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things continue from Ben's POV and i make more stupid references to me being german. sorry.

Ben had not expected to get invited to a Queen concert today, much less to their actual tour. He had no idea how or why but he _did _know that coming along would probably be the last straw for the timeline.

When he had run into Roger earlier - the man had apparently been looking for Ben, had started his search at the bar and been mostly successful, considering Ben had been in an alleyway directly _next to _the bar - he had maybe expected Roger to tell him about their tour so far.

(Scratch that, Ben hadn't expected to see Roger at all. He had been kind of aware that they would be having at least one show in London around this time but he hadn't known exactly when and had thus been rightfully surprised to come across Roger right there, right then.)

That an invitation to come with Queen on their tour would be among the first things to leave Roger's mouth had been so staggering for Ben that he had probably stood there with an open mouth and stared at Roger for at least half a minute.

"Well? Uh, what do you say?" Roger had finally asked with a slightly unsure tone in his voice. "The others want you to come along, too, if that's what bothers you?"

And in all honesty, Ben could have hardly said no to that, could he?

"I'm- I, uh, yeah! I'd love to!" Ben had responded. "It's just, you know, this job at the bar is kind of the only thing I'm getting money from. I'm... I'll have to ask my boss if I don't wanna live on the street once I come back."

This was definitely the dumbest decision of his life and would probably result in a catastrophe, but at least Ben could come up with convincing half-truths to gain some time to think.

"Can I call you, maybe? When I know? Because I'm going to have to decide today, right?"

Roger had given Ben the phone number of their flat and also the address of the Rainbow Theatre, just to be safe.

When Ben had gone to bed that night, his last thought before falling asleep had been, "I have to tell Joe about this."

And that was exactly what Ben did the next morning - or at least what he tried to do until he remembered that with Joe in London for the time being, the time difference between them was only seven hours. That meant Joe was most probably still fast asleep.

Ben sighed and went to get some breakfast instead.

When he got back to his room after about an hour, he checked how much money he had left.  
It wasn't a lot, only just enough for Ben to be able to live in this hotel for about one more week. And that was if he kept getting those tips from the bar.

If he went with Queen, though, Ben wouldn't have to pay for his room anymore. He could make some money helping to set up the stage if they allowed him to. Ben was also pretty sure that hotels on the mainland were cheaper because the currency there had a lesser value. Then again, most European countries had had the Euro in his time which wasn't the case now, so he could be mistaken.

There was one major problem, though - his passport was still from the future and showed his birth date to be in 1991. How was he supposed to get into another country when his passport was so obviously invalid?

Sighing, Ben shoved his wallet and passport back into the suitcase. Maybe Joe would have an idea about how to solve this when they talked later.

It was almost eleven now and while Ben doubted the bar was open already, he did know it would be in another two hours or so. It had been on the day he got to the past, in any case.

Ben really didn't want to uselessly sit around in his hotel room, though, so he decided to just wander the streets of London to pass some time.

It wasn't raining, which was almost unheard of in London at this time of the year.

A nearby park seemed to Ben like the perfect place to calm his thoughts a bit. He sat down on a bench, closing his eyes and just listening to the birds. There weren't as many now as there would have been in the summer, but there were some woodpeckers, sparrows and blackbirds still to be heard.

The London of 1974 was quieter than that of his own time. Ben didn't really pay attention to that most of the time, but in idle moments like this one, the difference became obvious. It was one of the things Ben actually liked about the past.

He was still lost, of course. He didn't have much money, had none of his friends really here. He had no valid ID or passport, he basically didn't exist.

It brought some freedom, but it also made him feel trapped. Ben couldn't leave, couldn't get another job - he'd been lucky the bar had desperately needed someone or he'd be living on the street already - and most importantly, he had to watch everything he did and said, living in constant fear to fuck up his timeline.

Ben seemed to only have two moods these days - one where he was almost afraid to leave his hotel room at all lest he change something and one where he was sure if nothing had changed for Joe up to this point, then nothing would, no matter what Ben did.

The latter mood always came over him when he was with Joe (of course, the man was the one who always conformed everything was still the same) and, for some reason, with Roger.

Ben couldn't even explain it to himself. Maybe it was because Roger seemed so relaxed about everything and he somehow transferred the feeling to Ben, or maybe it was Ben's... crush that made it all okay so long as he could talk to Roger.

He still wasn't too happy about that particular problem, either. It was just so weird. One would have thought knowing the older version of Roger would stop Ben from getting a crush except obviously, the exact opposite had happened. Ben couldn't even brush his feelings away by saying it was immoral - Roger was physically three years younger now instead of roughly forty years older, after all.

Don't get him wrong, Ben _knew _nothing would ever happen between the two of them - despite Roger's apparent threesome, the man himself had basically said he was as straight as an arrow. And his past and future womanizing adventures only confirmed that.

But that just made it more painful. It was so ridiculous. Ben knew it was stupid to feel those things, had known that from the beginning, and yet he just _had _to get a _goddamn _crush on Roger Taylor. By which Ben pretty much intentionally hurt his own feelings. Because that was the way all of this would go down. There was not a single doubt about that.

Sometimes, Ben suspected, his subconscious just wanted him to suffer.

Ben sighed an ran a hand through his hair which had grown a fair bit in the past two months. It was closer to one of Roger's hairstyles in the eighties - or the one Ben had sported at the beginning of X-Men: Apocalypse. It was starting to curl a bit and to be honest, Ben quite liked it. It was a bit more inconspicuous, in any case.

He was thrown out of his musings by a shuffling sound beside the bench he was sitting on.

Leaning over the side, Ben smiled when he saw a hedgehog making its way through the frosted leaves and grass on the ground. Although Ben was fairly sure hedgehogs hibernated during the winter - it was hard not to pick anything up once you got to know Brian May - the little guy seemed big enough to be able to survive on his own. It hadn't snowed yet either, so Ben supposed the hedgehog would be fine for now.

Ben carefully got his phone out - after checking his surroundings were clear of possible witnessed, of course - and snapped a picture of the small creature. Looking around again, he sent it to Joe with a small message.

**Ben**  
_hedgehog.jpg_  
(May 13th, 5:03 AM)

**Ben**  
_Thought Brian might like that. Found the little guy in a park in London. Send it to him? _  
(May 13th, 5:03 AM)

**Ben**  
_Also, call me when you wake up, asshat_  
(May 13th, 5:04 AM)

If Ben had calculated right - he really needed to set the time on his phone right - it was a little past noon now. That meant he could set off to the bar now and arrive with not too much time to spare.

And so he did, enjoying what was probably the last of this year's good weather as he walked the streets of London. To Ben's surprise, the bar had been open for a good half hour already when he arrived. 

It was kind of sad how little Ben actually knew about his workplace.

Ben pushed the door open, giving a quick nod to Alex, the guy working the shift before Ben's, who was behind the counter at the moment.

"Is Kork here?" Ben asked.

Mr Jürgen Thorsten Kork, the owner of the bar and Ben's boss, was a tall man in his fifties of German descent. He prided himself on that but only because it meant that his homeland, in his opinion, made the best beer in the world. Kork was generally a nice person, but had a bit of a strange personality. He seemed like someone who was quite flamboyant but always tried to cover it up by being grumpy.

His looks reminded Ben of Shatner's Captain Kirk which amused him to no end since Kork's name was almost the same, as well.

"Yeah, he's in the back." Alex jutted his chin in the direction of a door right next to the bar counter.

"Alright, thanks."

Ben went through the door, crossed the small corridor behind it and opened another door. This one led to Kork's office.

"Good morning, Mr Kork," Ben greeted him with a small incline of his head and a smile.

Kork, startled, quickly tried to hide the plate of cheesecake on his desk but failed as there was nothing there that was big enough to cover it or slide it behind.  
Instead, Kork just ended up awkwardly pushing the plate around on his desk for a moment. He immediately abandoned the motion and cleared his throat.

"Ben Hardy!" Kork exclaimed with a forced grin, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

His accent sounded exactly like the Germans in all the movies and TV shows. It sometimes made it hard for Ben to take him seriously, but today he had to stay serious.

Ben sighed. "There's really no good way to say it. I'll be gone for the next six month or so, a friend just invited me to his world tour."

Kork looked like Ben had just punched him in the face. There were a few seconds of silence. Then-  
"Incredible." Kork shook his head. "Rip it off like a plaster. Have you never heard of a two weeks' notice?"

Ben winced. "Sorry. I was told yesterday and my friend leaves today, there was really no way-"

"Oh, whatever." Kork waved him off. "At least you didn't just disappear like the guy before you. If I see that ass again, I swear to god I'm going to..."  
He trailed off into angry German ramblings.

"I'm assuming I won't be able to work here again when I come back?" Ben asked carefully when it seemed like Kork was running out of swearwords.

Kork looked back up at Ben, a pained smile on his face. "That depends entirely on whether anyone quits shortly before your return. But for now-" he shrugged- "consider yourself fired, I suppose."


	14. the rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben kind of figures out his passport problem and has a good time watching the boys perform

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is way longer than i can afford posting considering i'm slowly but surely running out of already written material 👀

  
Joe finally facetimed Ben when it was pushing three in the afternoon and Ben was getting quite nervous sitting around in his hotel room. He had yet to call Roger and confirm he would indeed be coming with them, not to mention that the show at the Rainbow started at seven, and Ben still hadn't found a solution to his ID and passport problem.

His suitcase, though, was already packed with the same things that had been in it for the past two months, plus the few shirts and pants Ben had acquired in that time. Most of Ben's money was in his backpack and so were his papers, for the time being.

"Wait, they invited you?!" Joe practically shouted and Ben quickly held the phone a few inches further away from his face.

Ben chuckled, still not entirely over that fact himself. "Yeah. I mean, Rog did but he said the others wanted me to come along, too."

"Oh my god." Joe dragged a hand over his face, a silly grin and wide eyes emerging when he put the hand down again. "That's the best news ever! Please take as many videos as you can, I need to see this!"

Ben huffed a laugh. "I'll try, mate, but if anyone sees me, I'm in deep shit. Can't promise anything."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Joe sighed. "God, I wish I was with you."

Ben pulled a face. "You really don't. I mean, I get where you're coming from and I'd love to have you here, but there are just so many problems!" He drew his eyebrows together, remembering all the weird stuff he had to deal with. "It's not even just the obvious things! Like, I get that I shouldn't change anything - I fucked that up already, though, let's be honest - and that I shouldn't tell anyone I'm from the future. And of course, I'm kind of alone here. But you get used to that? Especially since I've had you to talk to. The real problems are the ones you don't ever think about normally. Like, my ID and passport are invalid. I practically don't exist in this world. I'm still amazed I got that job in the first place and now I have no idea how I'm supposed to get into all those other countries!"

Joe rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Fuck, you're right. And you can't get those in your time because one, it would take too long and you need your passport tomorrow and two, you don't have a birth certificate."

"Exactly," Ben groaned. "That is one big pile of shit."

There was a second of silence before Joe sputtered, "Don't you quote Jurassic Park at me, Ben Hardy!"

Ben blinked, realizing what he'd just said. "Oh... okay, that was unintentional... but still funny." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

Joe grunted. "Unintentional... yeah, right." He leaned back into the soft couch of the hotel room he was currently staying in. "I guess... sometimes when people travel, they take a copy of their IDs and passports with them, don't they? If you sent me a picture of yours I could try photoshopping them to make the years right?"

Ben mulled that over in his head. "Do they- does that actually work? Will they just accept that here?" he asked, furrowing a hand through his hair. "Besides, I'd need a physical copy and there's no way to send files from my phone to a printer. And if there was, I'd have to do all that in a shop somewhere. In public. It's- I think that's way too risky, Joe."

"Yeah, no, that's- dammit, that's true." Joe scratched the stubble on his face, his eyes becoming slightly unfocused as he tried to come up with a solution. "What if you just, I don't know, put stains on all the years? Just make those illegible? With... with wine or coffee or something?"

"That's... not a bad idea." Ben cocked his head to the side. "D'you think the passport and the ID would still be valid after that?"

"Uh..." Joe shrugged, absolutely clueless, before his face lit up. "I'll just google it!"

And he did. Ben sat on his bed, waiting for about ten minutes and listening to Joe complaining about all the search results that had absolutely nothing to do with what he was looking for. Just when Ben was about to suggest him tweeting the question since some of their fans seemed to be all-knowing and found an answer to literally anything within bare seconds, Joe let out a triumphant "Ha!"

"You got something?"

"Yes!" Joe cheered. "Google says as long as the name and the photo are recognizable, it works."

Ben whooped, pumping his fist into the air and almost punching himself in the face in the process. He let himself fall back into the soft cushioning of his bed.

"This is the best news I've heard all week," Ben sighed with a droopy grin. "Now, where do I get some wine?"

  
I^^I

  
The late afternoon air in London was chilly but Ben didn't mind. His jacket kept him warm enough. Besides, Ben had actually chosen to walk to the Rainbow Theatre, despite the fact that it would take him a little over two hours to get there.

Knowing this - Google Maps really was a blessing, and so was the aspect that his internet still worked in this time - Ben had left the hotel right after he had called Roger. That, too, had worked on his mobile phone which had been a surprise to Ben, but a welcome one.

Ben had called Roger while he was sitting on the small table in his hotel room, a Q-Tip in his hand and his tongue between his teeth as he had carefully put a few drops of wine on his birth year and the year of issue on both his passport and his ID.  
The bottle of wine had sat on the table next to him and when, after Ben was done, it obviously looked full still, he'd spontaneously decided to just put it in his backpack and give it to the band as a thank-you for letting him come along.

Now his backpack was unusually heavy and Ben could feel the wine sloshing around in the bottle as he walked, plus, he had to be careful if he decided to set it down. It was worth, it though, just like walking to the Rainbow was.

Walking gave Ben the time to think about certain things, his made-up birthyear, for instance. It was 1974 and Ben was twenty-eight years old. His birthday was in January and it was November here, so it wasn't too complicated just subtracting his age from the current year.

1946.

Whoa, alright. Wasn't Freddie also-?

Yeah. That meant if Ben went with this, he'd be over half a year older than Freddie Mercury in this timeline. He was half a year older than Freddie. It was a weird thought.

Alright.

January 2nd, 1946. Ben's new birthdate.

He crossed a street and murmured the date a few times, internalizing the year.

Ben frowned a bit when he realized that for him, his birthday had only been about five months back but for everyone here, it was just a little over a month away. Should he lie about the date? Make up a new one that coincided with his birthday in his own timeline, the date that Joe would wish him a happy birthday on?

In the end, Ben decided to just leave it. So what if everyone here thought he was half a year older? It wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, who didn't want to have two birthdays a year?

Ben absentmindedly began to hum. Only after a few seconds did he realize the melody was that of '39 - how ironic.  
A song about time travel and it was stuck in Ben's head.

He snorted at the absurdity of the situation and crossed another street, narrowly avoiding getting run over.

Ten minutes later, a car slowed down as it drove by Ben until it came to a stop a few metres in front of him. It was a limousine and Ben was rightfully confused as to what the hell was going on - until a door opened and John Deacon stuck his head out.

"Hello, Ben!" he grinned, waving at Ben.

Ben sped up until he reached the car, jogging the last few steps.  
"Hey, John, guys." He nodded to Brian, Roger and Freddie who were also in the car. Ben's heart involuntarily started beating faster as he caught sight of Roger.

"What the hell are you doing here at this godforsaken hour, darling?" Freddie exclaimed from inside the car.

Ben furrowed his brows. "It's barely six, Freddie. And, well, I was walking to the Rainbow Theatre to see your show."

"You do realize it's going to take you another hour to get there?" Brian asked, leaning forward in his seat to look at Ben with a critical gaze.

"Yes, thank you, I am aware." Ben readjusted his backpack on his shoulder. "That was kind of the plan."

"Bullshit," Roger cut in, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. "I'm not letting you walk all the way. It's dangerous for schoolgirls to walk alone at night." He winked and Ben didn't even try to suppress his annoyed groan. He still blushed, though, and Ben sincerely hoped they couldn't see it in the barely illuminated street.

"Come on, get in!" Roger patted the free space between him and John.

"You sure?" Ben asked. "I mean, I don't mind wal-"

"Yes, yes, darling, we know." Now Freddie was the one rolling his eyes. "Just get in the damn car or we'll all be late."

"Alright," Ben sighed and slung the backpack down from his shoulders. He was a bit uncomfortable being in such close proximity to these four legends (again, his mind helpfully supplied) but quickly ducked into the Limousine nonetheless, finally plopping down on the seat in between John and Roger.

Space was limited which meant Ben's sides were pressed up to John - not a problem - and Roger - definitely a problem. Ben loved and hated his position at the same time.

He had never been this close to Roger and it made his heart beat in a way that made it seem like the thing was going to burst out of his chest any second now.  
Maybe that would be a good thing, Ben thought. At least the butterflies in his stomach would have a way to get out, then.

Ben held the backpack in his lap, not wanting to put it on the floor when the bottle of wine was still in it. Besides, it gave him something to cling onto.

"So, Benny, how have you been?" Roger nudged Ben in the side with a grin.

"I'm- I've been great, yeah," Ben responded, a blush colouring his cheeks once again. He cleared his throat. "And you?"

"Oh, wonderful!" Roger propped his elbow up against the window and leaned the back of his head into his hand, facing Ben with a smile. "You miss me?"

"Oh, sure," Ben said in such an overly gooey tone that his words could only be interpreted as a joke, despite them being the absolute truth. "Like the desert misses the rain." He put a hand to his chest and fluttered his eyelashes at Roger.

Next to him, John snorted and Brian - who was sitting across from them with Freddie - let out a laugh, his curls reflecting the faint light of street lamps and traffic lights as he dipped his head back against the headrest of his seat.

"How poetic," Freddie smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Ben. "And so incredibly romantic, darling."

The rest of the drive, which was only about fifteen minutes, was filled with teasing and banter, and Ben, despite feeling like he was going to suffer a heart attack from sitting so close to Roger, enjoyed it all thoroughly. Especially since this time, most of the teasing wasn't directed at him.

When the car pulled up at the back entrance of the Rainbow Theatre, Ben stayed in his seat to let the others get out first. He could already see someone with a camera and had no desire to be caught on video.

Instead, Ben got out last and attempted to hide behind Brian and his big hair as well as he was able to.

They entered the theatre and went straight to the dressing rooms, everyone just going into the same one, despite there being enough for every member of Queen. Ben sat down at the end of the small couch in the room and put his backpack down between his feet. He felt kind of lost since he had nothing to do and was kind of the odd one out in this room; the only one not in the band.

Someone rolled in a clothing rack with their stage clothes while Freddie and Roger were wrestling for a hairbrush. The clothes on it were predominantly black - four pairs of pants, a satin shirt with an incredibly wide vee that would undoubtedly leave the wearer's entire chest exposed, a blazer and a black and gold cardigan that Ben was sure he had seen Roger wear in several YouTube videos. Which would make sense given the fact that the footage used in those videos was from today.

The rest of the clothes was white and consisted of Brian's bat-wing tunic that Ben recognized as well and a satin shirt.

About half an hour later, the boys were dressed and had put their make up on.

Freddie was wearing the shirt with the wide vee in combination with tight black pants and two different gloves - one made of leather on his right hand and the other a chainmail one. With gems glittering on every hem as well as on his fingertips and with the dark eyeliner that brought out his eyes, Ben couldn't deny that Freddie looked absolutely ravishing.

John, too, was wearing something a bit more revealing, his white satin shirt under the black blazer unbuttoned down to his navel. He looked amazing as well, but in a cuter and less sexual way than Freddie.

All of that didn't pose as much of a problem to Ben as Roger did, though. The drummer didn't seem to believe in something so trivial as shirts, only wearing the cardigan, pants and an entire collection of necklaces.

Ben could hardly tear his eyes from Roger's form, his exposed chest proving to be incredibly captivating. Even when Ben tried to look at Roger's face did his eyes eventually stray downward again, the necklaces serving as a perfect trail leading to his collarbones and below.

With monumental effort, Ben eventually managed to look away. He was sure his cheeks must have been red as cherries and hoped no one would notice.

Since Brian was the one showing the least skin and thus the safest to watch, Ben decided to keep his eyes trained on him instead.

His plan was foiled, though, when Freddie jumped into Roger's arms without a warning, the latter stumbling a bit before regaining his footing and holding Freddie in a bridal carry. Freddie threw his arm out and now they looked like they were actors in a musical that had just performed the most important number and had struck an impressive pose to finish it off.

"How do we look, darling?" Freddie asked Ben while John was giggling, Roger was trying to stay upright with a strained (but damn sexy) grin and Brian dove for his stereo camera to snap a picture.

Ben blinked. His mouth opened and closed a few times before his brain caught up and was able to formulate an answer. "You, uhm, you look great! Really good!"

Luckily, someone knocked on the door before Ben had the chance to embarrass himself. "Five minutes, boys!" they called.

Roger let go of Freddie without a warning. Freddie squeaked and quickly threw his arms around Roger's neck. It didn't exactly stop Freddie from falling to the ground but it did slow him down. It also caused Roger to be pulled down with him and now they were both laying on the floor in a heap.

The immediate payback Roger had got for dropping Freddie made Ben snort. "Karma," he mumbled with a grin.

"Get the fuck off me," Freddie grumbled, but the fact that the corners of his mouth twitched upward made it clear he was more amused than pissed off. Freddie tried to push Roger off him to no avail. Roger didn't even move a muscle; he was lying across Freddie's torso and pressing down on the singer like a sack of flour.

"No," Roger mumbled into the carpet.

Brian took another picture.

When it became clear that Freddie wouldn't get Roger off him any time soon - Roger had now started actively resisting Freddie's attempts to roll him off - John slowly made his way over to them, careful to stay out of Roger's field of vision. He winked at Freddie, leaned down and then poked Roger's side once, twice - and then he began tickling him with full force.

Roger yelped, causing Freddie to flinch away, and started squirming desperately when John would not stop tickling him.

"AH- Fuck, stop, plea-HAH, goddammit, you fucking-aAH- wanker!"

"So uncivilised," John sighed, shaking his head in faux disappointment. "You're going to have to be nice if you want me to stop."

"Yeah, ye-AH... John!" Roger whined, still trying to move away from John's fingers. "Okay, Okay, I'll say it," he wheezed, "please stop, John- oh my go- I said please!"

"Didn't sound like you meant it," John shrugged, continuing his torture while Ben was trying to keep his laughter under wraps on the couch, kind of wishing for some popcorn.

"What the fu-" Roger jerked again when John jabbed his fingers in Roger's side once more. "How could I - stop! - not have sounded like I fucking meant it? Because I couldn't - John, goddammit - couldn't fucking breathe? That's hardly my fault!"

Both Roger and Freddie seemed immensely relieved when someone knocked on the door again, telling them they would be up in a minute. They could finally breathe again since John had been forced to stop tickling Roger, who in turn had got up, literally taking a giant weight off of Freddie's chest.

While Brian and John grabbed their respective instruments, Ben was overcome with a slight feeling of discomfort. Not because of anything the four of them did or had done, of course - Ben just had no idea what he was supposed to do now. Should he go with them? Should he join the rest of the audience?

In the end, Ben just stayed on the couch, not daring to ask them when they were obviously trying to get in the right headspace and preparing to go on stage.

Instead, he called out a quick "Good luck!", waving when Roger stopped and turned around in the doorframe.

Roger raised his eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

"I- uh- waving?" Ben could feel his cheeks heating up. "Sitting here?"

Note to self: Embarrassment and Roger's naked chest are not a good combination when you are trying to keep your composure.

Roger just rolled his eyes. He pushed himself away from the doorframe, strode up to Ben and grabbed his hand. He then proceeded to pull him up and set off to the stage, dragging Ben with him.

"You didn't seriously think you'd have to stay in the dressing room when I - when we all specifically invited you to watch our show?" Roger asked incredulously, throwing a quick glance back at Ben.

"Well- I-," Ben stuttered, blushing even more, "I didn't want to bother you?"

It was clear they were entering the backstage area now. There were cables strewn around everywhere with several technicians making some last-minute adjustments to the wiring of speakers and amps, the alignments of the lights and several other things Ben couldn't identify.

Freddie, Brian and John were on the other side of the room in front of a curtain that must have led to the stage. The latter two were tuning their guitars one last time and Freddie was nearly vibrating with excitement.

Roger spun around and put his hands on Ben's shoulders. The way he was looking at Ben, the drummer's face only a few inches from his, was doing things to Ben that he'd rather not have to deal with right now.

"Look, Ben," Roger started, "We didn't invite you to come along out of pity or anything. We did it because we really like you and you're a great friend, especially to me. You don't have to feel like you're intruding. If any of us didn't like you, they'd let you know. You'd notice, I promise."

Ben's eyes nervously flickered away from Roger's. He was afraid to look into them for too long - afraid that he might not be able to control himself. Unfortunately, his eyes now wandered down to Roger's lips - and that was something Ben couldn't possibly tear his gaze from. They looked so soft that Ben was sure they would feel like rose petals against his own. They resembled those in colour, too, sweet and light pink in the warm shine of the spotlights.

Roger's hands on Ben's shoulders kept him from leaning in, but they couldn't keep his legs from feeling like jelly. They also couldn't keep Ben's mouth from opening and the soft, unheard gasp - that left him when Roger licked his lips, for god's sake - from escaping. At this point, Ben wasn't even listening to Roger anymore.

Appreciating the sound of his voice? Absolutely.

Processing a single word Roger was saying? Not at all.

Oh, Ben was so screwed.

(Except that he wasn't screwed in any sense of the word, was he, and that might have been part of the problem.)

"-kay now, Ben?"

Ben blinked as he was ripped from his daydreams by the sound of Roger saying his name. Having not a single clue what he'd just been asked, Ben just smiled and nodded and hoped it would be enough of an answer.

"Good!" Roger exclaimed, a grin lighting up his face. "I'm glad that's resolved, then. Can't believe you thought everyone was just acting nice, really-"

"Roger, darling, are you going to be done any time soon or should we just reschedule?" Freddie called from across the room, impatiently bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We should have been on two minutes ago!"

"Oh, fuck," Roger cursed, letting go of Ben's shoulders. "Just, uh, you can watch from over there." He pointed to the curtain that someone was holding open now, allowing everyone in the small backstage area a glance of the stage and the keen and roaring crowd outside. Roger gave Ben one last grin and tapped his temple with two fingers in a loose salute before rushing to join his bandmates in entering the stage.

They were greeted with screams, whooping and applause.

The band bowed with matching grins before the crowd quieted down and Brian started playing the first chords of Now I'm Here.

It was a great way to start the show, as well as kind of a pun which made Ben appreciate the song even more than he already did. He had unconsciously started nodding along to the beat and quietly mouthing the words, but Ben didn't stop even when he noticed.

The next songs were Ogre Battle and Father To Son before one of Ben's absolute favourites was up - White Queen (As It Began).

Despite having seen this performance before, he was in awe. Recordings really were nothing compared to an actual live performance of Queen. Freddie's voice was heavenly and the instruments complimented each other so well it was unreal, creating incredible harmonies along the way.

The song ended with Freddie holding the last note for a few seconds before they moved on to Flick Of The Wrist. Freddie had gone to the piano to start the song off. He stood facing Ben and threw him a quick grin when he spotted him. Then he strode back to centre stage to begin singing.

Freddie's voice seemed deeper and rougher for this song, but it fit its lyrics and general sound very well.

Ben also loved the backing vocals Roger (and Brian, but Ben wasn't too focused on him) did, but that was nothing compared to what Roger did in the next song, which turned out to be In The Lap Of The Gods.

Ben already got excited when it started, recognizing it immediately, and by the end of it, he was seriously wondering if it was possible for one to be attracted to sound - especially to the sound of Roger's falsettos.

It took him the entirety of Killer Queen to calm down again.

After that, Ben could appreciate The March Of The Black Queen again, although he was a bit saddened by it being a shortened version, just like Bring Back That Leroy Brown which followed right after.

Son And Daughter was a lot longer though, almost ten minutes, and not in small parts because Brian had an extra guitar solo in this live version. It was much the same with Keep Yourself Alive and Roger's drum solo. At the end of it, Ben honestly didn't know how Roger's arms hadn't fallen off yet. The man had been drumming for close to an hour now with no break whatsoever - and he was still going strong.

Ben was currently having flashbacks to his own more or less successful attempts at the drum solo. Even having known Roger - either version - for a total of about two years, Ben still didn't know how the man did it. He supposed it came with the experience. Roger had been drumming since he was a child, after all.

Nonetheless, Ben was in awe of Roger's abilities.

He was also in awe of how well Freddie could play the piano, a fact which Ben had been aware of for ages but that became especially obvious with the beginning of Seven Seas Of Rhye. Ben wasn't sure how Freddie managed not having a knot in his fingers after that, honestly.

Stone Cold Crazy was next; also an incredibly fast song and one that would have ended with a knot in Ben's tongue rather than his fingers had he tried to sing it.

There were a few seconds of silence when the song ended in which the band gathered their breaths and the crowd calmed down a bit. Freddie was walking across the stage and raised the microphone to his mouth.

"We've come to the point in time," he said, chest heaving, "where we'd like to do-"

He was interrupted by a voice in the audience. "Liar!" they shouted.

"- a number that was released- oh, they know it," Freddie complained, seemingly disappointed that the big reveal had been stolen from him. "Might as well get on with it," he said to his shrugging bandmates before turning back to the audience. "This number that was released in the States as a single... is a number called Liar!"

The typical cowbell intro rang out as the spotlights focused on Roger. Ben was glad most of Roger's body was hidden behind cymbals from this angle because what he could see - mostly Roger's hair and his naked, sweaty chest - made Ben's throat go dry.

Just then, Roger looked up and at Ben for the first time in this entire show. His mouth pulled into a grin and he winked in what Ben was sure was just a friendly teasing way but good god did it do things to him.

However, right when Freddie started singing the first chorus, the one that would really get the song going - the bass and guitar were suddenly silent. Ben heard muffled cursing from backstage and oh, right - he'd heard of the power cut that rendered Brian and Deaky's amps useless.

Those two could not look more annoyed, Deaky rolling his eyes, looking like he wanted to run backstage and fix the problem himself, and Brian throwing his arms up.

Since his drum kit was the only instrument still emitting sound, Roger started an impromptu drum solo while Freddie kept the crowd in good spirits. "Tell you what, we'll just pose and you'll just look at us," he grinned.

Well, that shouldn't be a problem, Ben thought as he watched Roger pouring his heart and soul into the solo. Most of the lights shut off, probably so whoever tried to fix the wiring wouldn't be electrocuted. That left only a few dim lights trained on Roger.

After a few minutes of transfixed staring that Ben was happy nobody could see, someone tapped him on the shoulder, startling Ben out of his mind.

"We fixed the problem, they can go on," they hissed, pushing Ben forwards.

Whoever it was probably thought he was some kind of stage assistant, Ben gathered, and they now wanted him to pass the information on. He wasn't really, but he didn't really care either.

Ben carefully snuck around some speakers, sticking to the shadows, and avoided the wires on the ground so as to not trip over them until finally, he was just a few short feet away from the band.

"Hey, John," he whisper-yelled to get his attention. The bassist was closest to him, so it only made sense to talk to him. It took a few tries, but eventually, John turned his head around and spotted Ben.

"They fixed it," Ben said in a low voice.

John raised his eyebrows as if to say "Really?" and when Ben nodded, a grin split his face. He gave Ben a grateful nod before tapping on Freddie's shoulder and whispering something in his ear. Freddie, in turn, went to pass the information on to Brian while John stepped up onto the drum risers to tell Roger. The whole operation was as good as invisible to anyone in the audience since the stage was still mostly shrouded in darkness.

Only a few seconds later, the cowbell intro started again and the lights came back on.

The show ended with In the Lap Of The Gods...Revisited and Ben couldn't help quietly singing along to the chorus. He had chosen to stay right where he was, hidden behind a speaker, rather than making the perilous trip back to where he had been before. This time, he could have been seen sneaking around on stage and probably falling on his face when he would have inevitably tripped over a cable and he certainly did not want that, thank you very much.

The band retreated backstage after bowing to their cheering audience for a few minutes.

"Well, that was a disaster," John groaned once they were back in the dressing room.

"Right?" Brian nodded, dropping down on the couch.

"Are you kidding me?" Ben butted in, beaming. "That was the best concert I've ever seen!"

Roger threw an arm around Ben's shoulders, apparently not as bothered by the power cut as his two bandmates. "Is that so?"

"And how many concerts have you been to, darling?" Freddie looked at Ben from the corners of his eyes, lips twitching.

"Enough to know that this was the best one so far." They didn't need to know that none of those concerts had even happened yet.

"So far?" Roger gasped. "Does that mean you think there'll be someone better than us? I am appalled, Ben!"

Ben rolled his eyes. "No, Roger, it means that this one wasn't your last concert and I'm sure you'll play even better ones in the future."

"On that note from our very own psychic," Freddie exclaimed with a grin and clapped his hands, "let's get fucking drunk!"

He was met with general agreement, Roger letting out a cheer and Brian laughing.

Nobody but Ben noticed the irony of that statement - for obvious reasons.

"Is Ben going to spill embarrassing things again?" John asked with a wink. "Because if so, I'm definitely in."

"Oh god, no," Ben groaned. He definitely did not want to repeat that. "Would you be open to bribery to not make me do that again?"

"Depends on the bribe, I guess."

Ben went to his backpack and took out the bottle of wine. "How about some wine to celebrate and to get warmed up for the real drinks...?"

Roger immediately snatched the bottle out of his hands and waved it around, making both Brian and Ben step closer to catch it in case it fell. "I'm always up for any kind of alcohol!"

"Bribery accepted," John smiled. "I guess you're off the hook - for now."


	15. on tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben is confused by german people and accidentally makes roger angry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, there are more German things. sorry. it's the only country i can reliably make jokes about lol  
(you can hover your cursor over the underlined parts to see the translations if you want, although i'm pretty sure it's unnecessary in most cases)

They arrived in Sweden on November 23rd where the band was met with excitement, although Ben noticed it was nowhere near to what it would be like in the later years. To be honest, it wasn't even as bad as it was for Ben in his own time - Queen really wasn't that well known yet.

Ben was happy to know that his passport did indeed work with the wine stains on it. That was something he had been concerned about, but nobody really looked at it closely, even at the airports and/or when they were crossing borders. It was all very relieving.

The band played one show in Sweden, then one in Finland after which they came back to Sweden. None of them were too sure of who had planned their shows and why the hell they had done it like this, but they supposed whoever it was had had their reasons.

With the end of November came the end of Queen's performing in northern European countries and their next stop was set to be in Western Germany. It was weird for Ben to hear those words - Western Germany. He had been born after Germany's reunion and thus never even lived in a world where the country had been separated. It didn't really affect him now, of course, but it was a strange feeling to be in Germany when the country was divided by a border that was almost impossible to cross - there were guards on the eastern side with the order to shoot anyone who attempted to flee the GDR, after all. Ben could hardly unite this version of Germany with the free, lively country he had visited before.

Berlin, the only German city he had been to, was now an island of western ideals in the heart of the Russian occupation zone and, because of that, not a city Queen would be playing in. In fact, their first stop was set to be Munich.

Ben had unofficially taken over the role of the band's personal assistant a few days ago in Denmark and got them food and coffee or tea whenever they wanted to rehearse, explore the city or were simply too lazy. He had volunteered to do that to kind of make up for tagging along for free, even though everyone and their mother had assured him he didn't have to. But Ben wanted to.

And now he had a problem.

The thing was, he knew about ten words in German -[ Hallo](hallo), [Tschüss](bye), [Bitte](bitte) and [Danke](danke) (which meant Hello, Bye, Please and Thank you respectively) and the expletive [Verpiss dich](piss%20off), meaning piss off. That one had been one of his lines in X-Men. If pressed, he could probably manage to remember the translation for I'm sorry as well, but that was about it.

Sadly, none of these words was helpful now that he was trying to get Freddie his croissant and the rest of the band some bread rolls. He had tried to translate his request per Google Translate, which was already a pretty risky thing to do - only to find out that nobody understood what he wanted. And not at all for the reason one might think.

"[Ich hätte gerne ein Croissant and vier...Br- Brötchen? Bitte?](I'd%20like%20one%20croissant%20and%20four%20bread%20rolls,%20please?)" he tried, probably butchering the German language in a way that must have hurt the ears of everyone around.

The girl behind the counter of the bakery understood the croissant part, but she had no idea what [Brötchen](bread%20rolls) were supposed to be despite their apparent popularity in Germany if the display in front of him was any indication. She gestured behind herself with a confused expression. But there were only different kinds of bread lined up on a rack, not the bread rolls Ben wanted.

"No, the- uh, Brötchen," Ben tried again, slower this time. He was getting desperate and tried to point at what he wanted through the glass pane of the display. "Bread rolls? This, uh- [diese](these)?"

"[Ea mog via Semmeln, guads Madl,](He%20wants%20four%20bread%20rolls,%20dear.)" a man behind him suddenly spoke up in what sounded like an entirely different language.

"What the fuck," Ben mouthed when the girl's face lit up in understanding and she proceeded to put four bread rolls into a bag, just like he had wanted her to.

"[Des sei dann siebn Mark fuffzig, bitt schee,](That%20would%20be%20a%20total%20of%207.50%20Mark,%20please)" she said with a smile, putting the bag on the counter next to the one with the croissant in it.

Ben blinked, trying to make out even a single word he might recognize before giving up. "I...yeah, I'm sorry - [Entschuldigung](sorry) \- I have no idea what you just said."

"Oh, ähm, seven fifty?" she asked hesitantly, an unsure smile on her face.

Now that Ben could work with. He quickly handed her the money, grabbed the two bags with a "[Danke](danke)" and a "[Tschüss](bye)" before exiting the bakery.

  
After some secret googling, Ben found out that the language he had heard had actually just been the Bavarian dialect of German. They didn't call bread rolls Brötchen in Munich either but Semmeln or Wackerl instead, so that had probably been the reason for the girl not understanding his request.

He really hoped he wouldn't run into the same problems when he tried to get some coffee.

Buying those things went great in Frankfurt, where people spoke normal German, thank you very much - and then everything went to shit in Hamburg, where none of those words were used.

"[Ich hätte gerne vier Brötchen.](I'd%20like%20four%20bread%20rolls.)" -- "Uhm, [Semmeln](bread%20rolls)?" -- "...[Wackerl](bread%20rolls)?"

Ben hated the German language.

At least he found out about the bread roll discourse in Germany which people on several social networks in the future seemed to be very invested in. There also appeared to be a similar discourse about what German people in different regions called their version of doughnuts and honestly, Ben didn't even want to know.

"I'm never buying you guys any kind of baked goods in Germany ever again," Ben resolved, dropping the bag from the bakery down on the table that the band was currently sitting on, only narrowly avoiding the board of Scrabble. They had all gathered in Freddie's room but had been too lazy to get food and so Ben had volunteered. He liked seeing new cities and finding out about how the locals lived - walking the streets and buying food was a pretty good opportunity to do that. The fact that he could learn about what had been the past for him up until a few months ago was just an added bonus.

"That is the exact same thing you said three days ago," Brian grinned before putting down three of his letters to complete the word 'disaster'. "And yet still, here you are again..."

"Besides, your German is getting pretty good!" Roger added, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "We haven't even been here for a week, Rog," he deadpanned. "I've learned, like, three new words. Do you expect me to start quoting Goethe or Schiller now?"

"He's just saying none of us would be surprised, darling," Freddie shrugged. "All I've managed to pick up as of now are all the swear words."

"That's because you only ever hear the stage crew talking German and all they do is curse when they accidentally drop something, Freddie," Ben grinned. He opened the bag and took out Freddie's croissant, handing it to him. Over the last few weeks, he had become more and more comfortable around the others, to the point where he could tease them without feeling absolutely horrid and anxious about having done so afterwards.

Ben had also taken to hanging out at the venues where they were playing before the shows. He loved watching the stage get prepared for Queen's performances, but he couldn't help but notice someone always fucked up setting up Roger's drum kit.

It wasn't too bad and it didn't damage the kit, but Ben recognized the few mistakes with his kind-of-newly acquired knowledge about these things and knew they would irritate Roger. Sometimes, the legs of the bass drum wouldn't be fully extended, leading to it sliding forward when it was struck. Other times, the pedals for the Hi-Hat and the bass drum would be mixed up which could lead to some serious mistakes that would be noticed once Roger started playing.

Thankfully, those mistakes had never actually happened yet, since Ben had always discreetly fixed those things once the crew member who was responsible had left. He didn't want to lecture anyone or come off as someone who saw himself as better than the crew - Ben knew that his obvious closeness to the band could be interpreted that way.

So he just waited until no one was in sight, fixed the mistakes to the best of his abilities. He didn't tell anyone, not even Roger, who had yet to notice anything wrong with the setup of his drums. Ben was glad - that meant he was doing it the right way, after all.

Today it was the snare drum that was the problem. It was set too high, making it exhausting and slightly painful to hit as time went on since one had to hold their arms higher than it was comfortable for a long while - over an hour in Roger's case.

How could anyone get the set up so wrong? Ben wondered while loosening the screws that kept the snare drum attached to its stand. It honestly wasn't that hard. All the heights, lengths and angles were marked, for god's sake! By Roger himself!

Ben really didn't understand. He wouldn't say anything to the guy responsible for this, but Ben was safe in his own mind and could think what he wanted. And right now, what he thought was that man is a total dumbass.

Ben slid the stand down so the edge of the lower part would line up exactly with the markings on the upper part. He was so engrossed in getting it right that he didn't hear the steps coming closer from backstage until the person began to talk.

"Hey, Benny-boy, you still here?" Roger called out and threw open the curtain between the backstage area and the actual stage. "Everyone else left already, don't you want to eat somethi- what the hell are you doing?"

Ben jumped, almost dropping the stand he was still holding. He slowly looked up at Roger from his position on the floor, perfectly aware that he shouldn't be messing with the man's drums for no apparent reason.

"Uhh... setting up your drum kit?" he answered with an uncertain smile.

"I can see that, thanks." Roger rolled his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows.

This was the first time he actually seemed angry at Ben and he neither wanted nor liked it. He longed for Roger's approval in all things, no matter which version of the drummer one was talking about, and seeing him this way upset something deep inside Ben.

"What I meant was, why the fuck are you messing with it?" Roger asked, his voice getting loud towards the end. He raked his fingers through his hair, agitated.

"Oh god, no, Roger, let me explain!" Ben pleaded when it seemed like Roger was going to completely lose his shit. Ben knew he wouldn't be able to defend himself once that happened, he would just take every blow, unable to say a word out of panic at having angered Roger. He would be silently breaking apart inside despite having had only the best of intentions.

"Please let me explain," Ben begged quietly.

"Well then be fucking quick about it because last I knew, setting up my kit was David's job!"

"I know and it still is," Ben agreed, clenching his eyes shut to not have to look Roger in the eyes anymore. "But I saw him getting something wrong every time - in Helsinki, it was your bass drum; he didn't extend the legs. In Munich, he put everything too far away from your stool - you could have lost your balance mid-show from leaning forward all the time. In Frankfurt, he mixed up the bass drum and Hi-Hat pedal and now he set the snare drum too high. I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have gone and touched your things when I'm clearly not supposed to but I didn't want you to get hurt or make mistakes on stage when I knew I could prevent that. I'm so, so sorry-"

"Ben-"

"I should have told someone or, or asked-"

"Ben!" Roger called out again, stopping Ben mid-ramble this time. He didn't look so angry anymore now, walking up to Ben and sitting down next to him. Roger put a hand on Ben's shoulder. "It's alright, you're fine, I get why you did it. I'm not mad."

Ben exhaled softly. "Oh thank god," he whispered, sagging in relief.

"I just- why didn't you say anything?" Roger shook his head, genuinely confused.

"I guess I just didn't want you to be angry at David, or for anyone to assume I'm using my friendship with you guys to- I don't know, to make people who work here look bad." Ben sighed, rubbing one hand over his face.

"I'm already tagging along with you practically for free, I feel bad about every time I don't help when I could. With this, I knew I could do something. But as much of a dumbass David is for not just going with the markings and everything - I still didn't want him to get in trouble. So I just...did it behind everyone's back which, yeah, was a stupid thing to do."

Roger frowned. "Ben, you literally bring us food and drinks any time we want you to. You have to put up with walking through half a city on the daily, you manage to get us all the stuff we want even though you don't speak the language of this country. You voluntarily sacrifice your free time to do stuff for us and get nothing in exchange. Well, I guess you get to see every show, but so do all the others in the stage crew."

Roger softly shook Ben's shoulder, wanting him to understand how big of a help he really was. "Shit, you're practically an unpaid worker at this point," Roger blurted in realization.

Ben huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, half-heartedly batting away Roger's hands. "I'm not an unpaid worker, I just like to help. Besides, I get to see new countries for free! Who else gets to do that?"

"Literally everyone on our stage crew," Roger deadpanned. "And they get paid."

"Yeah, well, they don't get to hang out with you guys, so."

Roger bit his tongue to keep himself from taking this any further. They don't get us food, either, he wanted to say, but he thought better of it. Instead, he quietly resolved to do something about Ben's situation - hadn't he quit his job to come with them? Where would Ben live when they were on a Christmas break? And after the tour was over, what would he do without any money? - and made to stand up.

"Alright, I get it. You clearly don't want to talk about it," Roger said and reached out a hand. "Now come on, let me at least treat you to dinner as a thank you for always making sure I don't embarrass myself on stage."

Ben looked up at him with a smile. "Okay, but first I have to finish setting up the snare drum."

Roger rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. Of course.


	16. barcelona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys spend some time off in Barcelona and ben is pining

The band had two more shows in Germany before moving on to the Netherlands, Belgium and then Spain to end the European leg of the tour.

They had decided to spend a few more days in Spain before travelling back home for Christmas and Ben didn't really have the chance to decline - not that he wanted to, in any case.

It wasn't very warm - just under twenty degrees Celsius - but still warmer than in London, with less rain as well.

They went to see a few sights like Sagrada Família and Park Güell, the latter of which was mainly because of Freddie. As someone who had studied art, the buildings in the park - as well as several other buildings in the city - designed by Antoni Gaudí interested him greatly.

Freddie and Brian went to several museums - Freddie for the art and the historical clothing, Brian for the history itself - while Roger dragged Ben and John to see busy marketplaces, a bullfighting arena and a zoo.

Although Ben was of the opinion that you could go see a zoo anywhere else and get the same experience, he would gladly go with Roger anywhere he wanted. 

John seemed a bit more bored with Roger's choice of attractions to visit and on the third day decided to tag along with Brian and Freddie instead, who were going to see all the churches they could possibly visit in the span of that day.

"Oh, they're going to look at every little detail for half an hour," Roger had whispered in Ben's ear when Brian had told them over breakfast. "They'll get to see three churches at the most. Aren't you glad you're coming with me?"

Ben was indeed glad, even if he didn't like clothes shopping (Roger had forced three new shirts, a coat and two pairs of pants on him) or boats (he was always fine for the first half of whatever tour he was on, but as soon as they made their way back to the harbour, Ben got unbelievably sick). 

The latter led to Roger treating him to some ice cream, though, which was nice despite the cool weather.

The evening of that day saw all five of them on the beach. It was too cold to go in the water but Freddie had produced a fire basket from somewhere and Brian had brought an acoustic guitar. He now sat on a blanket like the four others, mindlessly strumming on his guitar, sometimes quietly humming along to what could possibly be an early version of '39.

They watched the sun go down behind the horizon, the fire crackling warmly in their midst and complementing the music coming from Brian, as well as Freddie, occasionally, when he decided to join in - sometimes humming, sometimes creating a few lyrics on the spot.

The warm firelight illuminated Roger's face and hair in a way that made the breath catch in Ben's chest. He watched as Roger's eyes shone in happiness as he looked at his friends before he threw his head back in laughter when John said something that caused Brian to mess up a chord.

Ben didn't know what had been said. All the sounds around him were muffled and everything he saw, every movement was in slow motion.

Roger was just... so _beautiful_.

The way his hair reflected the light, the way he would stick his tongue out a bit every time he laughed, the way his Adam's apple would bob every time he tipped his head back and took a sip of his beer - it was enticing, it was mesmerizing and Ben never wanted to look away ever again.

His name being called pulled Ben out of his almost-trance. Sound came crashing over him again and the world sped back up as he blinked, tearing his gaze away from Roger and over to Freddie, John and Brian.

"What?" he asked, doing his best not to seem like he had spent the last few minutes staring at their best friend and bandmate.

"Are you okay?" Brian asked with a raised eyebrow. His fingers had momentarily stopped playing with the strings of his guitar and were now only loosely resting on them.

Ben nervously cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, of course! Why?" 

"You seemed kind of gone for a moment there, darling." Freddie grinned and looked from Ben to Roger and back suggestively.

"Right. I'm fine, really - I was just...thinking. About..._something_. It's nothing," Ben insisted, even though he was sure his face looked like an overripe tomato at the moment. He hoped the red light of the fire would cover that up.

Freddie snorted, clearly aware of what was going on, but a pleading look from Ben had him raising his hands as if to reassure him he wouldn't say anything further on the topic.

"Anyway, John asked if you wanted another beer, Ben," Roger said, tilting his head.

Ben raised his bottle so that the light shone through. It was empty.

"Sure, yeah, why not."

He gave John his empty bottle in exchange for the new one, who put it in the newly created space in the box.

Brian started back up on playing. This time, it was a song Ben recognized - _Hey Jude _by the Beatles. As they all began softly singing along, Ben looked around himself.

He was sitting on a beach in Spain in the year 1974, surrounded by the members of Queen - and somehow, against all odds, they had become his friends.

A warm feeling spread through his chest. Ben didn't know what it was - Love? Friendship? Gratitude? - but when they all cheered and laughed after finishing the song, he realized that at this moment, he didn't miss home so much.


	17. christmas preparations and Panic Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ben tries to figure out what to get the boys for christmas. joe gives him a (sheer) heart attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't want to say this is a filler chapter, but... it's a filler chapter.
> 
> (also sorry for months of absence! inspiration left and school got worse even though i tried to get this done before christmas for obvious reasons, which...did not work out, as you can see. i'm back now on account of the quarantine and also the queen documentary was on tv this weekend. so.)

The tour was set to continue with the American leg on the fifth of February. They would arrive there a few days earlier, of course, but the break still left Ben with an entire month of free time, nothing to do and very little money left to spend.

There was a small café near his hotel that had begrudgingly allowed him to work there for the duration of that time. Roger had been disappointed about not getting to see Ben at the bar anymore, but they had found someone else and - understandably - hadn't been willing to hire him again. 

The tips at the café were better, though, and so Ben figured he would survive Roger's absence.

As Christmas was approaching, however, Ben felt the need to get his new friends some gifts. He didn't know if any of them would give him anything or whether Freddie even celebrated Christmas - or any similar holiday - but to Ben, it was the polite thing to do.

The only question was what to buy them. Ben already had ideas for Freddie and Brian's presents, but he couldn't think of anything for Roger and John.

Ben was almost disappointed in himself. One would think that with all the time he had spent with Roger, Ben would know what the drummer would like, but everything that entered his mind was either way too expensive or something Roger already possessed.

It was an agonizing few days for Ben.

In the end, the epiphany came on the day before Christmas, when Ben had already bought the presents for Brian, Freddie and John, the latter of whom he'd had an idea for some days prior.

It was when Ben was aimlessly strolling through a shopping mall, looking for inspiration, when - to his great surprise - he actually  _ got  _ inspired. By a girl with pigtails, but, well, no one needed to know that, right?

He went to the nearest shop that he knew sold cameras and bought a polaroid before he went looking for a place that had picture frames.

Back in his hotel room, he got to work with preparing Roger's present and when Ben was done, he put some nice wrapping paper around all of the things he had got the band and called it a day.

It was barely noon, but that meant it was eleven in the evening for Joe - which was the cause for Ben's surprise when he got a text from him. His phone was still set to the time it was in London in 2019, but that fact couldn't distract Ben from the contents of Joe's text.

**Joe**

_ I'm meeting Rami, Lucy and Gwil tomorrow. _

(June 17th, 5:03 AM)

Ben's brain short-circuited.

Joe fucking  _ what?! _

Sure, Ben had been thinking about the moment he could finally get to talk to his friends again and it had come up in a few of their more recent conversations, too, but it had always seemed so... distant. Like a dream that Ben hoped would come true, but didn't really believe in.

He spent the next five minutes sitting on his bed and staring at the wall, internally screaming, before he got up and started pacing the room with his heart just short of exploding - and still internally screaming.

**Ben**

_ What! _

(June 17th, 5:16 AM)

**Joe**

_ Yep! Gwil's coming to NY! _

(June 17th, 5:16 AM)

**Joe**

_ We'll call you when you're awake. Let's say nine? That's 8pm for us here _

(June 17th, 5:17 AM)

**Ben**

_ Hell yes! What the fuck! _

(June 17th, 5:18 AM)

**Joe**

_ You ok? _

(June 17, 5:18 AM)

**Ben**

_ I'm losing my shit and trying not to scream like a deranged donkey but yeah! I'm good! _

(June 17th, 5:19 AM)

There was no way Ben was going to calm down ever again.

I^^I

"This is going to be the best Christmas of my entire life."

These were Ben Hardy's first words when his eyes snapped open the next morning.

He wolfed down his breakfast, almost choking to death in the process, and then spent half an hour in his room, just pacing around and waiting for the phone to finally ring. He changed his shirt three times before finally settling for one that Roger had bought him in Spain, even though nothing at all depended on the way he looked.

Ben glanced at the clock on the wall again and sighed. It was barely seven-thirty. Of course, he just had to wake up two hours earlier than usual today.

In search of something to do, Ben rummaged through his wardrobe - discovering a sock he had thought gone for good - his suitcase, the cabinet under the bathroom sink and his nightstand. It was in the last that he found his book,  _ The Lord of the Rings _ , and thus finally something to kill time with.

Unfortunately, his nervosity did not get along well with Tolkien's long, overly-detailed descriptions of scenery and so Ben decided to study the appendixes and the included map instead. The map he understood well enough - it was the countless family trees in the appendixes that left him more confused than ever before. Also, what kind of madman invented several languages just for a story?

Ben snapped the book shut with a sigh. A quick look at his phone told him that not even an hour had passed.

Up until now, the best Christmas of his entire life had not been that good at all.

Ben thought about bringing Roger and the others their presents, but that was only a passing fancy. He knew he didn't have enough time for that.

Ben decided to shower and was sitting on his bed again, in the same position as before, not fifteen minutes later.

He stared at the wall. This was stressful. And nothing had even happened yet! He wondered if the others were going to believe him as easily as Joe had. At face value, this whole thing sounded like an elaborate prank and really, what proof did he have that it wasn’t?

Ben could hardly go out and facetime them in public, let alone get Roger or any of the other boys involved.

He was in an epic pickle.

Ben dragged a hand across his face. Why couldn’t anything about this goddamned situation be  _ easy _ for once? Why did this have to have happened, anyway? What was the  _ point _ ? 

Was he supposed to change things?  _ Could _ he even do that on an bigger scale than he already had? And if he could, would that be okay? - You know, morally?

Ben didn’t know and he hated that. He really wanted things to go back to normal. 

Even if he would miss his new friends. Would miss Roger.

The opening notes of  _ You’re My Best Friend  _ startled Ben from his rapidly spiralling thoughts.

In his half-panic, it seemed he had lost track of time. It was nine. And Joe was calling.


End file.
